


Blood For Blood

by malloryalexx



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Character Death, Drugs, F/M, M/M, Violence, rape mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4472969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malloryalexx/pseuds/malloryalexx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My name is Gerard Way, and this is how my life changed dramatically.<br/>I could start off where everything started to go wild, where my world started crumbling apart, but what would be the fun in that? You came here for a story, I know you did. So, that's what I'm going to give you. I'm going to tell you a story that might make you cry, but it might also make you laugh... it might even make you want to slap me around and ask me why I chose to do one thing instead of the other. It doesn't matter what you think about the story, though, because it's my story. I'm telling you this story because at least one person deserves to know what really happened in case I do go off the deep end. I don't want my story to be lost forever. So you have to promise me, alright? You have to promise me that no matter what happens to me in the future, no matter how crazy I might seem to be, you have to keep my story safe. You can't let people forget my story. If my story is forgotten, then our whole battle together would have been worth nothing. I would have lost someone I loved over nothing. Please don't let anyone forget the story you are about to read. Please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Electric Guitars and Magic: The Gathering Apparently Have a Lot In Common

There was no way in hell that I would let someone take advantage of me. I never gave people the opportunity to get close to me - emotionally and physically - so there wasn't a chance that I could be overpowered. Of course, I wasn't the strongest guy on the block, but I had my methods. I knew how to fight - that was the one thing that I had always known. I could get himself out of a sticky situation if I wanted to - but they rarely ever happened so I didn't have a need to worry. Sticky situations only happened once in a blue moon. Still, I was terrified every now and again to even step outside in horror that I would get into a place I couldn't back out of. When I was younger my mother always told me that I was exaggerating, that nothing bad was going to happen. Then, as I grew, my therapist said that I just had anxiety. Anxiety. Yeah, right. I wasn't anxious about anything, at least that's what I believed.  
The only thing that I had any issues with was going to work. That was the only place where I got "anxious" (as my therapist would say). So many things could go wrong. People had tried to take advantage of me there before - not in a physically touching way but in the way where they're trying to steal from my work. I'm a nice guy, I know I am, so when other people realize that, they think that they can charm me into giving them a discount, or find some way to get me to blush and look away while they shove other things into their bags. I wasn't an idiot, and I'm still not, so I knew what they were trying to do, and I knew how to handle it unless things started to get violent. My boss had told me before that I can't get physical with the customers, that I can't touch them and start a fight whenever things start to go south. My boss always said that I had to call the police if things got rough. I never liked the police. People of authority have never been on my list of people that I like and trust.  
That day didn't seem like a police-calling-day, though. That day seemed like an average day; a day where only ten customers would come in and purchase the items they wanted to buy. I normally worked as a cashier, a simple job you could say, but it was occasionally stressful whenever someone new came into the store. Normally the regulars came in every day, but every now and again you would catch a couple of stragglers from the street who are in need of something new. New people didn't really come in, though. The store I worked at wasn't exactly a place that new people wanted to come in to. "Super Comics" got buisness, but almost always from the regulars. That day was different, though. That day, no one really even came into the store. Every business has slow days, but that day there was actually no one in the store. So, I decided to take it easy. I sat down on the stool behind the counter and pulled a comic out from the stack sitting beside the register.  
"Spider Man?" I said under my breath with a hint of disgust. It seemed like I always pulled out a Spider Man comic to read. It wasn't like I didn't like Spider Man, it just got a little boring after a while.  
I began to read it, anyway. It was a used copy that I was reading; I could tell by the occasional coffee stain on the pages, and how the corners of the comic were dogeared. What a shame, it truly was. How someone could just deface a comic like that... I wouldn't know how to live with myself.  
A voice came from the other side of the store, and if I hadn't noticed previously that there was a fellow employee in the store, I would've jumped at the sound of her voice. "Why don't you get off your ass and come help me put these collectibles up?"  
I raised my head to look at the girl who had spoken up. "If you could just ask a little nicer," I responded as I began to sit the comic back down into the stack it came from.  
The girl let out an audible humph and turned around to face me. She wasn't exactly supermodel gorgeous, but she was pretty, I couldn't deny that. She had that grunge look, the kind of thing that 90's rock bands were always looking for; the whole Kristen Pfaff appeal. Long dyed-black hair that was always too greasy for a normal twenty year old, some sort of band shirt underneath a long-sleeved flannel, ripped skinny jeans, and either Keds or Doc Martens on her feet. She gave off that I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude, and a lot of the time she acted upon it the same way. A lot of people had told the two of us that we looked like siblings, and I could see it if I wanted to, but my little brother Mikey was the only sibling that I wanted to have. Besides, it was weird thinking about how we looked similar whenever we had dated before off and on. No one wants to look back and think about how you were in a relationship with someone that multiple people probably thought was your sister.  
"I'm coming, jeez, don't get too exasperated, it's only eleven A.M." I slid off of the stool behind the counter once I realized that my coworker was still staring at me, and that she actually needed help. "You know, Cass, we should bring up how it's only the two of us here. I mean, I know this place is only open on the weekdays but it'd be nice to have some helping hands."  
Cass bent down to pick up a box from the floor, and then proceeded to shove it into my arms. "Yeah, and who do you know that would want to work in a comic store for five days a week?" she tilted her head sideways and rose an eyebrow. "C'mon, man, I don't even want to work here. The pay's not that great and the only guys that come in here aren't that attractive."  
"You looking for someone new?" I asked, taking out a Chewbacca bobble head and placing it on the empty shelving space. We weren't dating then, but after the couple of years we had been going off and on, it always rubbed me the wrong way when she started to seek interest in other guys.  
My question had only gotten a small shrug out of the girl. "I don't know. It'd be nice to have someone new in my life."  
"Already sick of seeing my face, huh?"  
"Gerard," Cass stopped shelving items to look at me, her normally witty and sarcastic eyes molding into something that held a much more seriously glare.  
"C'mon, you know that I'm kidding. "  
She breathed out a laugh and shook her head. "I don't see why you don't get back into the dating world. I mean, even if we do end up back together -"  
"Which won't be happening anytime soon."  
"It wouldn't be bad for you to experience something different."  
I shifted the box in my arms so that I wasn't forced to stand still. "I don't know. No one exactly wants to date a twenty-two year old comic nerd with a rundown apartment."  
"I dated you, didn't I?"  
It took me a moment to even begin to process her words. When everything settled in my head, I still couldn't exactly understand what it all meant. Even though that it was my fault we broke up all those times, she didn't regret it? She never regretted going out with me just once? I thought that it was probably a pity thing that she was pulling then, just trying to make it seem like dating me wasn't as awful as it actually was. It must've had some good in it, though, since she did come back more than twelve times over the course of two years. Whenever I told my younger brother that we were back together, he always replied with "You know that she's just in it for the sex, right?". I had never believed him when he said that, but now, looking back on the times, it's not that hard to comprehend that Cass was just into me for the sex. I was about to respond to her when the bell on the front door chimed. Someone had walked into the store, but since we rarely ever got new people, I decided that it wasn't worth going up to them and actually greeting them. "Welcome to Super Comics, can I help you find something?" I called to the customer from across the small shop.  
There was a few seconds of silence before the person answered. "Uh, not really." the voice didn't sound familiar, so it must have been a newbie. I turned around and began to walk back to the counter, the box of collectibles still in my arms. Then, the person spoke again. "I was actually wondering if you guys were hiring?"  
That made me stop walking. Did someone really want to work here? It didn't make much sense, but earlier I was saying how it'd be nice to have more people in the shop. I turned around, my eyes searching for the voice who had asked if he could work here. I thought that maybe I had been hearing things, since at first I saw no one in the store, but then I saw who had asked. It was a small guy, a handful of inches shorter than I was, with greasy hair and a Misfits shirt underneath a green cargo jacket. He looked like the result of a bad pop punk band, but that wasn't exactly a bad thing when it came to working at a comic store.  
"Yeah, we're hiring. It's actually just the two of us here," I nodded to the back of the store where I had came from and Cass gave the boy a small wave. "so it'd be great if you could start soon."  
The kid bit his lower lip as if he was debating on what to say next. "I've never actually worked anywhere before, so this would be my first job. Is that an issue?"  
"Hell yeah it's an issue!"  
I turned to see Cass walking over to the two of us, her facial expression solid and unchanging. "Cass, you can't say that. It won't be a problem and you know it."  
She shook her head hard, "I'm not showing the ropes to some fifteen year old who's just -"  
"I'm seventeen."  
Cass' eyebrows rose in an expression of surprise. "Excuse you?"  
"I'm seventeen." The kid responded. "I'm not fifteen."  
"Fine, then. I'm not showing the ropes to some seventeen year old who's just going to quit in a couple of months." Cass turned to face me, blocking the kid from her line of sight. "C'mon Gee, you know how bad of an idea this is. He's probably just going to steal from the store and blame it on one of us."  
"I don't steal." The kid piped up. No matter how many times he tried to save himself, there was no way that Cass was going to end up trusting him. Once she got it into her head that someone was bad news, she never really changed that opinion.  
I sighed and took a step back, trying to look at all of the logical options. I was the oldest employee there, and I had been working there the longest, so I pretty much got to call the shots despite that I wasn't the manger. There was a chance that this new kid could steal from us, but there was also a chance that anyone could steal from us. It wasn't like we hadn't gotten stolen from before. Hell, before Cass started working there, there was a guy who would steal money from the register and then say that he wouldn't stop unless he got a pay raise. It's easy to guess how he got fired.  
"Look, Cass," I wanted to come to terms with my friend, but I didn't know if that would happen. I hated making people upset, especially if I knew that I was going to have to deal with the consequences. "this kid wants a job and we can offer him one. I don't see why we can't just give it to him."  
Cass crossed her arms, a look of displeasure on her face. "It's not my ass that's going to be kicked if he fucks up, okay? That's all I'm going to tell you." she reached out and grabbed the box from my hands, and then began to turn around and walk off, continuing her job of putting the collectibles on shelves.  
I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes for a couple of seconds before turning back to the kid who now seemed like he was about to run away in fear. "Don't worry about her, she's always a little hotheaded."  
"Are you sure?" he asked, turning his head to look over at Cass, and then back up to look at me. "She seemed to be pretty upset with me."  
I shrugged. "She's not used to change around here, but she'll get over it. What's your name, kid?"  
"Frank."  
"And why do you want to work here, Frank?"  
"I don't know."  
I shook my head, "No, there's always some reason why a person wants a job. C'mon, what's yours?"  
It took a few moments before Frank would answer, but he eventually did. "I want a guitar. I mean, I have an acoustic one that I found at a garage sale, but it's beat up and looks awful. I want an electric, something where you can actually feel the music."  
"You know that you're gonna have to buy an amp to hear anything good, right?"  
Frank nodded slightly, "Yeah, I know. I'm hoping that I'm out of the house by the time I can buy them both, that way I can't get yelled at me for being too loud."  
That got me to laugh. I remembered back when I was at home and my mom would yell at me for playing music too loud. Sometimes I would do it just to piss her off, but most of the time I just did it to try and drown out the complications of life. "It sounds like a good enough plan. Can you start tomorrow?"  
"Tomorrow? I, uhh... I don't know. I'd have to find a ride here or get money for the bus and -"  
"What side of town do you live on?" I asked, looking down at the kid who seemed to be rambling on and on.  
He stopped talking for a moment and the look in his eyes was pure confusion. "I'm in the East side... but I don't think that -"  
"Give me an address and I can pick you up on my way to work. I live over there, too, so it won't be out of my way too much."  
"Are you sure? You don't have to do that. I mean, I can walk or something. I don't want you to get-"  
I nodded once, cutting Frank off as I began to talk. "I'm sure. Really, it's not that much of a hassle. Besides, it's worth it if we get another set of hands around here."  
Frank began to say thank you, along with a lot of other things, but honestly I wasn't listening. I turned around to face the counter and reached for a post-it note and pen, turning back around to hand them to the kid. He took the items from me and wrote down his address before handing them back and saying his goodbyes. Honestly, I couldn't tell if the kid was nervous or if he was always like that. Maybe he lived in a bad neighborhood and just didn't want me to see his home. Maybe he had that "anxiety" thing that I was diagnosed with as well. Either way, we were about to have another employee in the store and that's all that mattered.  
"Wow, I can't believe what just happened." Cass called out to me, taking a few steps toward me so there wasn't as much distance between us.  
"What happened?" I asked her, wondering if something had gone on in the back while she was putting things away.  
"You and that kid!" she spat at me, shaking her head. "I said that you should get back into the dating world, not try to jump into the next person that you see's pants."  
I scrunched up my face, appalled that Cass would even say something like that. Actually, I wasn't surprised that she said that, I was just surprised that she said it to me. "I don't want to sleep with him. The kid just wants to be able to buy music equipment and I know how desperate you can get when you want something and you can't find a job." When I was in my mid-teens I really wanted to meet up at a book store for their Magic: The Gathering night, but my mom wouldn't let me go unless I payed for the gas myself. That was the first time I was ever desperate to get money. It all worked out in the end, and yeah, it wasn't the same situation as Frank, but it had similar feelings. Cass stared at me and refused to go back to shelving items, knowing that what I was saying wasn't exactly the truth. "Fine," I admitted, "but even if I did want to sleep with him, I couldn't. He's underage."


	2. Who Would Have Guessed That Simon Gallup Sells Weed to Kristen Pfaff

The next day, when I drove up to the address that Frank had given me, I couldn't help but wonder if I was at the right place. It was a normal house, a little run down with peeling paint here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary. With the way the kid looked and acted, I guessed that he lived in an apartment complex - one of those tall ones that are really beat up, like the one I lived in. I put the car in park and was about to open the door when a kid with damp hair ran out of the house, rushing to pull a black jacket on over a white button-down. The attire seemed like a little too much, especially when I noticed that Frank also had a tie hanging loosely from his neck, but I decided not to ask a lot of questions about it.  
I looked at him when he got into the car, the kid's hands instantly going to his hair to try to style it. "You know you're working at a comic book store and not as an assistant, right?" Frank froze when he was spoken to, his hands still stuck in his hair and his mouth parted slightly as he tried to come up with a response. When he didn't say something back, I realized that what I said might have not been the best thing for a seventeen year old's self esteem. "I didn't mean to offend you or anything, I just mean that your clothes are really formal for something that I normally wear a t-shirt to."  
Frank let his hands drop into his lap, leaving his hair in a tousled mess. "It's not formal clothing if the tie is loose."  
I shrugged in agreement. The kid had a point. I put the car into gear and began to drive away, hoping that hiring Frank would be a good thing and that I wouldn't have to tell Cass that she was right. The two of us sat in silence for at least half of the ride, which wasn't long at all, but it felt like forever. Frank stared out the window the whole time, and occasionally his head would move along to whatever song played on the radio, but nothing was said until I spoke up.   
"What're you looking forward to today?"  
There wasn't an answer. I thought that he just didn't want to talk, but I also thought that maybe he didn't hear my question - he was caught up in his own head, after all. I was about to re-ask the question right before I heard his voice, "Being away from home."  
It made sense, it actually did. If this was his first job, then he must not get out much. Either that or his family weren't nice people. That's one thing that I couldn't stand; seeing kids be treated badly. Even if Frank was one year away from being considered an adult, that didn't give anybody a reason to treat him like dirt. I hoped with all my heart that he wasn't being abused or anything like that, because if I had to deal with the police in order to keep him safe, then I wasn't exactly sure I wanted to get involved with this. I had to play it cool, though. I couldn't straight-up ask him if he was being abused or treated wrongly, and if that was the reason why he was so thrilled to be working and getting away from his house. I didn't know why I wanted to keep him safe, I just did.   
"Family problems?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the road as if it were a normal conversation.  
He shook his head, "I don't want to talk about it."  
So we didn't. Nothing else was said. I didn't know if something bad was happening, or if I was just making it all up in my mind. I didn't know if not talking about it meant that he was scared to talk about it, or if it meant that his family problems were just a small dispute over how long his showers were. Maybe his parents were splitting up. Maybe his parents were already split. Maybe he doesn't even have parents. There were a lot of things going through my mind on that silent drive to work, but they all seemed to revolve around Frank. I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to know why he thought that wearing a loose tie made everything casual. I wanted to know why he spiked his hair in the back. I wanted to know why he chose to work at Super Comics. I just wanted to know more about him. The problem with that was it didn't seem like he would be willing to give up information about himself. I wouldn't want to tell someone that I've barely known for a day my whole life story, so it made sense why he wasn't talking much, but that didn't stop me from wondering. I wanted to know who he was. I wanted to know why he was who he was.  
Once we pulled up to the front of Super Comics, Frank's hand had began to fidget with the tie around his neck. I didn't know if he was nervous, and I wasn't about to ask, seeing how he shut down any conversation that I tried to make on the drive over. I hoped that Cass wouldn't give the kid a hard time, though. It was his first job and he didn't exactly need someone chastising him to do better on something that even she's mediocre at. I opened my car door and Frank followed, stepping out into the cool morning air. It was summer time, but the temperature was always in the upper seventies in the mornings. Luckily we got to stay inside throughout the day's heat, so that was a plus when it came to working at the store. I walked inside, my eyes adjusting slowly to the dark space. Once I could see, I spotted Cass behind the register sitting on a stool, her feet propped up on the counter. I would have yelled at her for having her feet up, but she was the one that spoke first.  
"Where's your little boy toy?" she asked, seemingly admiring her cuticles. I must have looked confused, because when she glanced up at me, she continued with, "That kid that came in yesterday. Weren't you picking him up?"  
Was she talking about Frank? Of course she was, who else could she have been talking about. "He's right -" I turned around to look for him, but he wasn't inside. That didn't make any sense. I drove him there, he even got out of the car. "Hold on," I called over my shoulder, "he might still be outside. Give me a minute."  
First day of the kid's job and he was already lost. I couldn't believe it. Walking back outside, I started to look both directions, thinking that he could have just accepted the job in order to get into the city without his parents or guardians or whoever knowing the truth. I even started to believe that little scenario in my mind when I saw a kid with spiked hair and a black outfit near the stop sign at the end of the block.   
"Frank!" I called out to him, walking over to him at first and then breaking out into a jog. He turned around when he heard his name, so I continued my pace until I caught up with him. The crosswalk sign was red, and personally I would have crossed anyway if there wasn't a lot of traffic. "Hey, why're you bailing? I thought you wanted to work here."  
He stayed silent for a few seconds and I thought that he was going to ignore me. I never quite understood why he felt the need to stay so quiet. I didn't know if it was because he was thinking of a response or if it was because he wanted to get under people's skin, but either way it frustrated me when he took a long time to answer. "I just... I don't think that now's a good time for me to work."  
"But you wanted that guitar, right? You were excited about it yesterday, so what changed?"  
He shrugged and began to walk across the street when the light turned white, signalling that it was safe to walk. I followed him, hoping to talk him back into going to the store. Frank pulled the collar of his jacket up around his neck and then dropped his arms back down to his side. "I started thinking about what could go wrong. I don't want anyone to get hurt because of a decision I made by myself."  
So he thought that he was going to mess up at some point and be disciplined? It was an odd concept, but I knew that I was going to have to work with it if I wanted the kid to come back to the store. By this point, I wasn't sure if I wanted him to work at Super Comics because I liked his vibe, or if we really did need helping hands. "Frank, it's only me and Cass working at the store. If something goes wrong, we'll cover for you if the manager has to get involved. You don't have to worry about -"  
"It's not the comic store that I'm worried about, okay?" he stopped walking and turned to face me, his head tilted upward so he could look me in the eyes. "My stepdad runs this buisness - it's sort of a family thing and there's not really a way for me to get out of it. I'm just now being trusted to handle some of the jobs they have and even though I don't want to be in the business, there's not really a way for me to get out of it. So, I can't risk -"  
"Wait, hold on. Just slow down." I paused to try to keep the air between us light. The kid was talking incredibly fast, trying to explain the situation to me without exactly explaining things. "So if you're helping your stepdad with this buisness, you can't have another job?"  
Frank shook his head, causing loose strands of hair to fall in his face. "I didn't say that. I just... it'd be easier if I didn't have another job." his head dropped down, his eyes locked onto his sneakers. "Besides, my stepdad doesn't exactly know that I accepted this job, and he probably won't be happy if he finds out."  
"Does he not want you working somewhere other than the family buisness?" It made me want to know what the buisness was. Furniture making? Drug running? Managing a restaurant? I would have asked if I didn't already expect the answer to be 'I can't tell you'. Frank nodded to my question, and then looked up, his eyes filled with guilt. "Do you want to work at Super Comics, though?"  
"I don't know. I know that I said I hadn't worked somewhere before, but I meant that I hadn't worked at a real job before, so I don't know if I even want to work there. It'd be nice to do something new but...."  
"You don't know if your stepdad will approve."  
"Yeah."  
I took in a deep breath, trying to come up with some sort of solution. If he really wanted to work with us, then there had to be some way to sneak him around. "C'mon, let's go back to the store and I'll tell you my idea."  
"You already have an idea to get me working at your comic store?"  
Shrugging, I looked down at him. "Something like that." I turned to go back in the direction of the store, and he began to follow me when I got two steps ahead.  
When he caught up, I explained to him how I had a younger brother only a year older than him, and that if they met one another, they would probably end up being close friends. Frank questioned why I was telling him this, but I cut him off and continued to speak. I told him that Mikey, my brother, wouldn't mind helping him out. I said that he could tell his stepdad that he met a new friend and that they were going to hang out when in reality he worked at the store. It wasn't an awful idea, and if the two of them actually did decide to hang out one day, Mikey might even get a new friend out of it. Frank still seemed a little shaky about the idea, but I told him that if things started to go South that he could always back out of the comic book store job and return to his family's buisness.   
"But what does your brother have to do with this?" his voice was a little shaky as he spoke. We both stopped walking to stand at the crosswalk. "Wouldn't it just be easier to say I met a friend and your brother doesn't have to get involved?"  
"It would make it seem more realistic. I mean, if your family asks to meet your friend, Mikey wouldn't mind coming over."   
"I guess so, but," Frank paused when the safe-to-walk light lit up, and then continued to speak when he started walking. "If something really does go wrong, I don't want your brother to get mixed up with my stepdad and his friends. They're not exactly nice people."  
After he said that, I really wanted to know what the family buisness was. If he was that worried about Mikey, it had to be something potentially dangerous. I knew that I couldn't ask, but I really wanted to know. I actually really wanted to know. I couldn't just throw my brother into a harmful situation, though, no matter how interesting this kid was, it wasn't worth trying to keep him at the store if it made my brother get hurt. There had to be another alternative, something that made Frank feel comfortable enough to work at Super Comics, and something that wouldn't get people in any danger.  
"You know what?" I asked as we came into sight of the store, "I'm going to talk to Mikey tonight. I'm going to ask him to come to the store tomorrow so he can meet you and you can explain to him how much of a risk it could be to him if he gets caught up in this lie, alright? I'll tell him about how you want to work at Super Comics but you're afraid of what your stepdad will think if he finds out, and I'll tell him that he needs to pretend to be friends with you so people aren't suspicious. Maybe he could even pick you up and drive you to work? It'd make it seem more realistic...."  
Frank kept quiet, and this time I guessed that it was because he was trying to process what I had told him. Hell, even I wasn't exactly sure what I had just talked myself and my brother into. I hoped that Frank would just agree, that we could go back to the store, and that everything would blow over smoothly. I also hoped that this kid's family wasn't into anything illegal, because honestly, I didn't want to be caught up with the police if they were. He was still silent when we finally reached the store front, so I stopped and turned to him before opening the door. Nothing was said for a handful of moments, it was just us staring at one another. I wanted him to say that we could at least try the plan, because I didn't want him to bail out again, but with the uncertainty that was plastered on his face, I wasn't sure if that would be the answer I would receive.   
"Okay." Frank breathed out, his voice almost inaudible.  
I couldn't help the grin that spread across my lips. He was willing to try it out; lying to his stepdad that he's meeting up with a friend - meeting up with Mikey - when he was actually working at Super Comics instead. I wasn't aware of how much destruction this would eventually cause, but at the time it didn't seem horrible. Everything would blow over smoothly, or at least that's what I believed. I pulled the door to the store open and let Frank walk inside first this time, not wanting to have to chase after him a second time. Cass was still sitting behind the register on a stool, but her feet were no longer propped up on the counter. Frank sidestepped in order to stand directly between Cass and me, having us both in his line of vision.   
Cass stood up and pressed her elbows on the counter, leaning forward in an attempt to look curious. "Look what the cat dragged in." she stated slyly.  
Frank looked at her, and then quickly back to me, unsure of how to responded to his new coworker. I shook my head and tried not to think about it too much. Cass wasn't that nice of a person, and you grew to come to terms with that, but I occasionally wished that she would put on a fake smile for some people. No one knew what this kid had been through in his life, or what he was going through, and having one more person test his limits might put him over the edge. I didn't want that to happen to him - he was a good kid, at least from what I could tell.  
"C'mon, Cass, don't be like that. We've got a set of helping hands; this is exactly what we wanted yesterday." I stepped closer to her, making me stand directly in front of Frank.  
She pushed herself away from the counter and walked out from behind it, coming to stand next to me so she was still looking at Frank. "I was just kidding," she spit out, "and besides, I'm pretty sure that kid can handle himself." I turned my head to look at Frank, his hazel eyes filled with worry. His hand was fidgeting with the tie around his neck again, going through the same motions from earlier when we were sitting in the car. Did Cass make him nervous? I mean, the young grunge chick did make people unsettled from time to time, but it didn't seem like Frank would be the kind of person to get jittery around her. Who knew, though? When I first met her, I could have swore she was going to rip my throat out. Not even because I thought she hated me, I just truly believed she was a vampire. As time went on I learned that she wasn't all that bad, and I supposed that Frank would come to the same terms as I once did. "Is he going to talk or just stand there?" Cass murmured to me, her eyes still glaring at the boy.  
I took a step towards Frank and turned my head to look at Cass. "You're going to be showing him the ropes today, alright? Get him to help with that inventory in the back." Looking back to the boy, I let my expression soften, trying to make myself look as nonthreatening as possible. "If she gives you a hard time just tell me. I'll talk with her on her break or something. Just don't let her push you around."  
"I don't let people push me around," he stated to me boldly, and then stepped around me to stand next to Cass.   
"We'll be fine, Gerard." Cass put her arm around the kid, her lips forming a hesitant smile. "I'm just showing him how to put things on shelves. He can't screw up that bad, right?" her hand squeezed Frank's shoulder and he nodded forcefully.  
I blinked slowly and sighed.There was something going on between those two, I knew that for sure. What exactly was between them, I had no idea, but I knew that I would find out eventually. What I didn't know was how soon I was actually going to find out. I turned and began to walk to the space behind the counter, signalling to Cass that it was alright to take Frank and start working. When I sat down on the stool behind the counter, I started to really think about the situation at hand. It just seemed strange that Cass hated Frank from the beginning, that she wanted nothing to do with him the moment that he walked into the store. It didn't seem right that she had to force a happy face so she didn't get griped at, and it definitely didn't seem right that Frank was uncomfortable around her. I should have listened to my gut, but nothing could go horribly wrong. It wasn't like my ex was selling drugs to this seventeen year old.

_________________________________________

My lunch break was before Cass', and since Frank was hired, it was before his as well. Our manager, Billie, made it that way when Cass started working here so I could eat as fast as possible in order to get back to the store to help her with customers in case she got overwhelmed. Billie wasn't aware of how much she could handle, and he didn't want to push her limits and make her resign the same week she was hired. Which is why my lunch break is forty minutes before everyone else's. There was only one customer in the store right now, and he seemed to be pretty involved with the newly arrived comics, so I slipped out from behind the counter to go and find Cass. She always managed the front whenever I went on break, and I thought that it would be a good experience for Frank to see how the register worked. Most of the time she hid out in the back room, especially during her work shift, but it never aggravated me because she was actually doing work back there. Despite how laid-back and undetermined she seemed, Cass really did make an effort to do things when no one else was around.   
The store set-up was convenient; everything placed in a certain spot so it was easy to maneuver around. The front and back walls were lined with collectibles, and the four isles in between had comics ranging from '33 reprints to new releases. There were bins of posters at the beginning of the isles, each one filled with a different popular series. On the right side of the store - at the end of the isles - was a door that lead to the back room. It was for employees only, as it said so on the sign, but no one had tried to open the door so far. It required a key to be opened, but most of the time we just left it unlocked. It only held boxes of extra collectibles and comics in case the front of the store ran out, and new shipments of comics whenever a new edition came out.  
My hand reached for the doorknob of the back room and I instinctively tried to turn it, but that time it was locked. It was strange, especially since between Cass and I, I was the only one that had a key. It had to have been an accident, a slip of the hand whenever they went to close the door. I wasn't exactly sure whether to blame it on Frank or Cass, but it didn't matter, really. I had a key to get into the room, so it wasn't that big of a deal. I pushed my hand down into my front pocket and drug out my set of keys. There weren't that many keys on the chain, honestly, but if I were to ditch the ring of metal that held them altogether, I would be lost. My car key, house key, key to my parent's house, the key to the front of Super Comics, and the one to the back room. I put the key into the lock and turned, hearing the click of the door as it unlocked and granted me access into the room. Pulling the key out, I stuck the keys back into my pocket and opened the door. With one last glace to the customers scanning through the comics, I decided that the guy wasn't a threat, and that I could step into the room for a couple of minutes and he wouldn't steal anything.  
I turned back to face the back room and stepped in, only able to say half of a sentence before I was stopped completely. "Hey Cass, did you mean to lock -"  
Both Frank and Cass were staring at me with wide eyes. Frank's arm was stretched outwards toward the girl, his hand shaking in fear, while Cass' hand was retracting from his, a small plastic baggie held in between her fingers. My mouth was parted slightly, an expression of confusion rather than shock. Quickly, I closed the door to the room and walked closer to them, shaking my head in vexation. I didn't even know what to think, much less say. I couldn't believe it. I didn't know how to deal with a situation like that, and I definitely didn't want our manager to get involved with this little exchange. I knew what was in the bag - or at least had an idea of what it was - and it wasn't oregano.  
I turned to face Cass, completely blocking out Frank. "I can't believe this," I said to her in a rushed voice. "Selling drugs I'm not surprised about, but to a seventeen year old? C'mon, Cass, he's taking a risk just working here. You couldn't just think ahead once?"  
She stared at me, a blank and confused look in her eyes. "He doesn't smoke, Gerard." a small laugh escaped her lips and she shifted her gazed onto Frank.  
I moved my head to look behind me, staring down at the boy who was practically shaking. He looked like a lost puppy, like someone who needed a hug and to be told that it was all going to be alright. I would have said that it was going to all work out in the end, but I didn't know how this was going to go down. I didn't know if our manager was going to eventually be called in. I didn't know if word was going to spread that weed was being sold in the back of Super Comics. I didn't know if I was going to lose my job, or if Cass was going to lose her job, or if Frank was going to lose his job. I didn't know if Frank's stepdad was going to get involved. I didn't know anything. At that time I was just as scared as Frank was, if not more.  
"I..." Frank looked down, his eyes boring into the concrete floor. "Please don't tell anyone about this," he whispered, his head shaking from side to side just slightly.  
I took in a deep breath. If I didn't tell anyone, nothing would happen, right? I mean, that seemed logical. I didn't want myself or anyone else to lose their job, and I certainly didn't want to be questioned by the police, so if I kept my mouth shut, nothing could go wrong. I looked up at Cass, "Can I ask one question, though? How'd this kid end up selling you weed so quickly?"  
Cass opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, and then quickly pressed her lips together as she looked at Frank. He lifted his head back up and looked at me, "I've been her dealer for a few months," he told me, his voice nervous and unsure if he should be speaking about this, "that's why she didn't want me working here, you know? It'd just be weird."  
I shook my head and looked down at Frank, "I actually don't know what'd it be like to work with your drug dealer," my eyes shifted to Cass, "but I do know that if Billie finds out about this, he's probably not going to be a happy guy."  
"Who's Billie?" Frank asked, and immediately clenched his teeth after the question was asked.   
"He's the manager of the store." Cass responded, beginning to push the baggie in her hands into the pocket of her jeans.  
The room was quiet after she spoke, almost as if everyone was too afraid to talk. Cass had taken on a nonchalant stance, whereas Frank was still rigid and frozen in fear. He apparently didn't want to be caught up in this, didn't want to be confronted and asked why he was selling drugs. I didn't know his purpose for selling, but I didn't want him to get mixed up in the wrong crowd. Maybe he already was, but that didn't mean he couldn't get out of it if he wanted to. I cared for the kid; I didn't know why, I just did. If I could get him - and Cass - out of this situation without getting in a large amount of trouble, then everything would go down well in my book.  
I raised my hand to run it through my hair, and then I dropped my arm back down to my side with a sigh. "I'm not reporting anything, I'm not going to say anything. You're both off the hook this time, but I don't want to see anymore of this here, alright? We could all lose our jobs and probably end up in jail, so please just keep this little side buisness away from the store."  
Cass nodded first with confidence, and then Frank joined in a little more hesitantly. I gave them a small smile, only a slight curve to my lips, and began to turn away, but Cass spoke up before my hand hit the door handle. "Oh, wait, before you leave..." I turned around to face her, raising an eyebrow in question. "Why'd you come in here in the first place? I mean, you normally don't come back here."  
"I was going to tell you to watch the store while I'm on break, maybe show Frank how to work the register." I turned back around and opened the door that lead back into the main section of the store, "Also, if I don't come back on time, don't worry about it. I'm eating lunch at home."

_________________________________________

When I got to my apartment, my hands were shaking so badly that I could barely unlock the door. The minute that I drove away from Super Comics for my lunch break, my mind wouldn't stop thinking. I didn't have a moment of silence thanks to my own thoughts, and turning up the music in the car didn't drown out anything that was happening to me. My breathing was shaky from point A to point B, and when I stepped inside my apartment and closed the door, I lost it. It was all so draining. I just wanted to lay down on the floor with my head in my hands for the rest of the day, but I knew that wasn't an option. If it wasn't a weekday I would've called my brother, but I knew that he wouldn't answer his phone while he was in school. Mikey was a good kid, and he was honestly the only person that knew how to calm my nerves when I got like this. Sometimes I didn't even know the reason behind these episodes - sometimes they just happened. I've told my therapist about them before, but she just said that it was part of my anxiety, that if I actually took the meds I was prescribed, everything would be okay. I didn't want to cave, though. There wasn't something wrong with me, so I didn't want to take something for something I didn't have.   
I dropped my keys onto the floor and pressed my back against the front door, letting my head rest against the wood. My eyes were shut tight and I made sure to try and keep my breathing steady. Of course, it didn't work, but it was the least that I could do for myself. I slide down the door, still sitting with my back against it, but now I was sitting on the floor with my knees brought up to my chest. My head hurt - so did my chest. Actually, my whole body just felt numb, but I was too overwhelmed to understand that. I brought my arms up so my elbows were resting on my knees, pressed my forehead against the heels of my hands, and let out a singular sob. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get my whole body to convulse, and it was enough to release the tears I had been holding back since the moment I walked into my apartment. Hot tears were streaking my face, running down my cheeks and falling onto my shirt. I couldn't comprehend anything that I was thinking; every thought came and went so quickly.  
Someone's going to find out.  
I'm going to lose my job.  
Cass is going to jail.  
Frank could get killed over this.  
Mikey's going to get into drugs if he helps Frank.  
I should just call in sick tomorrow.  
It'd be easier if I ran away from this.  
Nevada isn't that bad, right?  
What if I didn't go back to work today?  
What if I didn't go back to work ever?  
How long could I pay my bills without working?  
Some of that weed would probably help me right now.  
I hate this.  
I'm going to end up losing my job.  
The police are going to get involved.  
Someone's going to get arrested.  
Every time that my life is getting better I fuck it up.  
No wonder Cass didn't want to stay with me.  
I'm pathetic.  
My shoulders were shaking and my teeth were clenched as I continued to sob, my head pressing harder into my hands with every jolt. I knew that I shouldn't be by myself whenever I was like that, which is why I normally called Mikey and had him talk to me, but I was alone for that one. I was never able to handle anything like that on my own - I almost always ended up sitting like that for two hours at least, begging for an ounce of good vibes to come into my life. They never did. I always ended up laying on my side, my face pressed against the floor as my arms were wrapped around my stomach. I always ended up staring at nothing in particular, my mind going blank instead of thinking about everything at once. I went from being overwhelmed to blocking out the world completely. My throat was always dry afterwords, but I always felt like I was about to vomit. I never wanted to get off of the floor, but there was always something that dragged me to my feet. That's why I liked talking to Mikey when I was in those types of situations. He talked to me so I wasn't alone. He made me see how everything would fall back into place and I was just thinking about my life too deeply... but Mikey wasn't there to help me that day. I was alone. It was my lunch break from work and I knew that I wouldn't make it back on time, but I didn't have the strength to call Cass. I didn't even have the strength to tell myself to put up or shut up. I felt broken, and no matter what other plans I had for that day, I accepted the fact that they wouldn't end up getting done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have started writing chapter 3, but it sadly won't be posted for a while seeing how I'm moving to another state very soon. I'm packing up boxes right now and moving this upcoming week, so of course it's going to be difficult for me to finish writing the next chapter and post it at the same time. I don't know if I'll even have wifi access where I am going, but I will never forget about Blood For Blood. I'll have the next chapter up as soon as I can, seeing how I already have so many ideas for this fic. Thank you all for reading, and I hope you stick around to see the ending outcome!


	3. Call it Quits and Kiss Me Quick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that it took nearly a month to write this fic, but after the complications of my moving, I'm hoping that you all enjoy what's in this chapter!!

I woke up and my right cheek was cold, my face was pressed against the wood floor of my apartment. I felt weak, almost sore, but most of all, I felt distant. It felt as if I had disconnected from life, that what I was experiencing now made no difference in the world around me. The last thing I remembered before I woke up laying on the floor was being overwhelmed. There were so many things filling my brain, but now nothing was happening. I wasn't overwhelmed, I wasn't hyperventilating, I wasn't crying into my hands... I was still. I was at peace, and I knew that for as long as I laid there, motionless and detached, I wouldn't feel any type of emotion again. 

There was a vibration in my pocket, and I can't deny that it confused me at first. My relaxed persona was infiltrated by the buzzing feeling on my thigh, and I grudgingly moved my hand toward my front pocket, my fingers brushing against my phone the exact moment that it stopped vibrating. I knew that someone had tried to call me, and I knew that it was either Mikey or Cass. Mikey sometimes called me after school to see if he could drop by to hang out, or to see if there was anything I needed, but if Cass was the one who called me it would have been because I stayed away from the store way past the ending of my lunch break. I pulled the phone out of my pocket and brought it up to my face, having the side of the device rest on the floor as I stared at the screen. Nine missed phone calls from Cass, and three texts that were all a variation of "Where are you?". I let out a small groan and rolled over onto my back. I didn't want to have to deal with any of this - I didn't even want to get up - but unless I wanted someone to come looking for me in panic, then I was going to have to. I decided to listen to the voicemail that was left for me. Seeing how out of the nine missed phone calls that there was only one voicemail, either something was incredibly wrong or she was just worried.

"Gerard? It's Cass. I've called you like five times and I don't know what to do because I know you said not to worry if you were late but you're three hours late and I'm worrying, okay? I don't know if you're ignoring my calls or if something happened to you but you're freaking me out. Something happened at the store but I'm not telling you in a voicemail.... Please just call me back." It sounded quiet in the background - which wasn't abnormal for the store - but if something had happened, it seemed like it would have been a little more chaotic.

Seeing how it didn't look like I had much of an option whether to call her back or not, I pressed the return call button and brought the phone up to my ear. I didn't want to talk, I didn't even want to listen, but Cass could never become relaxed again once she was rilled up. The phone only rang twice before her voice came through.

"Oh my god, Gerard, I've been calling for hours, are you okay?"

I didn't respond at first, not wanting to speak, but then quickly realized that this couldn't be a one-way conversation. "I'm fine," I mustered to get out, my throat dry so it sounded as if I was hoarse.

"You don't sound fine." Cass said, but then quickly began speaking again, "Something happened at the store - will you just come down here?"

I shook my head even though she couldn't see me. "What happened?"

There was an audible sigh that came from the other side of the phone. "I want to explain it in person. C'mon, Frank's here and he's kinda freaking out so if you could just get down here...."

Sounds of protests could be heard, and I guessed that it was Frank trying to say that he wasn't worried about anything. I let my eyes fall closed, telling myself that I couldn't go back to sleep right now. "I'll be there in twenty minutes." I told her and hung up the phone before I heard her response.   
I didn't want to get up, much less get up to go to Super Comics. This wasn't at all what I wanted to be doing, but it was either that or have Cass come looking for me in panic.

I laid on the ground for another minute or so before managing to sit up. My legs were outstretched in front of me, my hands folded in my lap. I didn't want to get up. I didn't want to drive to work. I didn't want to have to deal with whatever was happening at the store. I just wanted to be sixteen again. I wanted to be able to come home from after school and go straight to my room. I wanted to be able to draw anytime that I wanted to. I wanted to be able to tell my mom that things weren't going so good and she would let me stay home from the activities planned that day. I wished that I could tell whoever was in charge of me now that I needed to take a day off from all adult responsibilities. Being twenty-two wasn't what I expected it to be. Not at all. My mind was still fuzzy and I clenched my jaw to stop the tears welling up in my eyes. I couldn't start that again, not until after I dealt with whatever Cass was having a conniption over. With a heavy sigh, I pushed myself up off of the floor, taking in deep, slow breathes so I wouldn't lose my composure. I began to walk toward the door, and bent down to pick up my car keys from the floor before heading back out into the world.

_________________________________________

When I pulled up to the storefront, Cass was standing outside with her arm wrapped tightly around Frank's shoulder. It looked like they could've been siblings; the same slightly panicked expression on their faces, their dark hair plastered to their cheeks. I would've stayed in my car and pointed out more similarities, but once I put the vehicle in park, Cass let go of Frank and began walking towards me. I opened my door and stepped out onto the street, the girl standing in front of me before I could even shut the door. I raised a brow, expecting her to speak first, but she just stared at me. My gaze flickered over to Frank, looking for some type of support, but he only shrugged. It took all of me to not roll my eyes to him, but I looked back to Cass. 

"You gonna tell me why I had to come down here so quickly?"

She swallowed, a hint of worry in her eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "Someone stole from the store."

"So?" I asked nonchalantly , "It's not like it hasn't happened before. You confront them, you call the police if you have to, everything's good."

"Everything's not good." Cass declared, beginning to walk back over to Frank, expecting me to follow. "I told the guy to not walk out the door, but he just glared at me." She turned back around to face me, and then began to speak again once I walked closer to her. "Frank looked at me when the guy didn't say anything and I just nodded to him - which is apparently a universal signal for 'punch the guy in the fucking face'."

"In my defense, a head nod in my stepdad's buisness means to punch the guy in the face." Frank looked at Cass, trying to plead his case.

I withheld a laugh, causing me to make a sound that was as if I was being strangled. Does selling dope, or whatever hard drugs his stepdad sold, really contribute to punching people in the face? It only took me a few seconds to come to the conclusion that it probably would be needed to pop someone in the jaw if they tried to make off with the drugs without paying. 

I shook my head, trying to clear my previous thoughts, but kept my eyes on Frank. "So, what? Is the guy pressing charges? He won't win if we can prove he tried to steal from us." 

It made me wonder what the guy tried to steal, especially if it caused him to be punched in the face.

Cass' expression turned into one of worry, something that I didn't see very often. It was as if she was reflecting back on what happened, that her mind was being thrown back into whatever fear she was feeling at the time. "That's not exactly the case." She stated to me, turning her face to look at Frank, and then returning to look at me. "He pulled a gun."

"A what!?" My voice was raised, and suddenly I felt guilty for having a breakdown in my apartment for three hours when I should have been at the store. "Did you call the police?"

She shook her head. "We couldn't. We were being held at fucking gunpoint."

"No one else in the store could've called the cops?"

"There wasn't anyone else in the store," Frank responded. "It was just us and that guy."

My stomach dropped as I began to think of all the ways that the situation could've gone. Luckily, neither one of them were bleeding or injured - at least not from what I could see - so my thoughts were eased very little. "So what happened? Did you... What went down?"

Frank opened his mouth to speak, but Cass spoke before he had a chance to. "After Frank punched him, the collectable he tried to steal dropped out from under his jacket onto the floor. I thought it would just stay at that and he would walk out of the store looking angry but he pulled a god damn rifle out of his jacket and-"

"It was a .32 handgun, stop exaggerating."

"Shhh," Cass waved her hand at Frank to dismiss his comment. "Anyway, he pulled the gun out and aimed at Frank and I totally thought he was about to be blasted but I tried to move to the counter to press the emergency button, right? Well, the guy saw me and started aiming at me so I put my hands up in that stupid defenseless pose," she mimicked the pose, holding her arms up into the air only to drop them as she began speaking again. "I kept telling him to put the gun down, but he wouldn't, and every time that Frank tried to move to help me out, the guy would aim at him. It was a lose-lose situation."

I tilted my head in confusion, "So how did you guys get out of that? Did someone else walk in, or...?" 

"I told the guy that he could keep the stupid collectable, that I didn't care if he took Thor or whatever the hell it was and left." Cass said, any ounce of fear from before leaving her voice. "He calmed down a little after I said that, and then Frank started talking to him."

"I didn't really say anything," he protested with a shrug, look up at me in confusion .

Cass shook her head. "He's lying; he said something that got the guy out of the door without him taking the collectable."

"What'd you say?" I asked, looking at Frank, and then back to Cass, hoping that one of them would answer.

When Frank responded in only a panicked look, Cass let out a sigh. "Frank here told the guy that Matteo Iero wasn't going to be the slightest bit happy that he aimed a gun at his stepson, and you know what that collectable-stealing bastard did? He fucking ran. He ran! You should've seen him, Gee. I swear if that guy had a tail it would've been between his legs. All because of a threat from a thirteen year old."

"I'm seventeen," Frank responded, looking up at her with an annoyed look on his face.

She waved her hand at him once more,"You're still a kid, it doesn't matter if you're thirteen or seventeen. That guy was still terrified that he was being threatened by you. What really gets me was the fact that he felt threatened by something as simple as your stepdad."

"My stepdad's a pretty ruthless guy."

"I doubt that. Tell him that I want to have a fist fight with him, and that-"

"I'm not going to tell him that." Frank declared, looking at Cass like she was crazy. "He's the one that taught me how to punch, and he's way stronger than me, so I doubt you would win."

The two of them began to spit fire back and forth, making remarks about how they would win and how they would lose. It was entertaining, honestly, and I would've stood there and watched them argue for an hour if I didn't want to return home. I didn't want to have to deal with any of this, and since the situation seemed to be at its downfall, I believed it was a decent time to question whether or not I could leave without making a sound. Yes, of course Cass or Frank would notice me backing away from the two of them in order to reach my car, but the real question is, would either of them stop me to ask where I was going?

I focused back in on the conversation right as Frank began to speak. "You can't say that you'll win if you haven't even seen my stepdad before. Not in person, not in a picture...   
Why do you even think that -"

"Look," I interrupted, "you're both really interesting right now but will you just tell me what happened after he left? Why did I have to come down here?"

Cass stared at me for a couple of seconds before responding. "We had to call Billie. I didn't want this story getting out somehow and him questioning why we didn't call him."

"So? What'd he say?" 

She shook her head. "Nothing, yet. He hasn't come in yet - said it would probably be half an hour."

"How long ago did he said he would be here in half an hour?" I questioned her, crossing my arms over my chest in frustration.

She shrugged, and then turned on her phone to check the time. "Like ten minutes ago."

A small sigh escaped my lips, but that was all I did in response. I could've stayed home, could've been doing anything other than dealing with this for at least another twenty minutes before being forced to come back into work. I didn't understand why I had to come down there anyway; I wasn't there when the incident took place, so I wouldn't be any help as an eyewitness. I knew that this was serious, that being held at gunpoint and having your life threatened to be taken away wasn't something that you happily bragged about, but I also knew that even if I was there, there wasn't anything I could have done to stop it. In fact, it might've ended much much worse if I was there in the first place. Billie had to be able to see that, right? I couldn't be the only one that thought I wouldn't have been any help. 

Frank looked up at Cass, obviously confused by my silence. She didn't speak either, which must have made him feel uncomfortable to some extent. I wanted to tell him that this was normal, that sometimes Cass and I stared at one another in silence instead of actually talking. It gave us both time to reflect on what was said, and what we were actually thinking, and what we wanted to say next. It was a trick we picked up back when we were dating, and it probably saved us from breaking up more times than we did. It kept her from becoming hot-headed, and it kept me from becoming nervous and saying something I truly didn't mean. 

I was about to speak whenever a car pulled up in front of the store. It was a BMW 2002 tii, an oddly shaped car, but unique enough to fit the owner's personality. The car door opened and I locked eyes with Frank, who looked more confused than anything else. I gave him a small smile before letting my gaze drift back to the car as the driver stepped out into the sunlight. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt with a leather jacket thrown on top, black skinny jeans, and faded white high top converse. His hair was sticking up in places, and I wasn't exactly sure if it was styled like that or an accident. 

"Hey," he said, closing the car door and quickly jogging over to the three of us. "I would've been here sooner but I got pulled over - cop didn't know what to do with me so he just gave me a warning and told me not to fuck up."

"A cop told you not to fuck up?" Cass questioned, raising one of her eyebrows.

He tilted his head sideways before shaking his head. "Nah, not exactly, but that's pretty much what went down." His eyes met mine and a small grin slid across his face. "Gerard," he greeted me, sticking out his hand for me to shake it. "How's it been?"

I took his hand in mine and shook it a couple of times. "It's been alright, Billie. Better than the last time you saw me."

The last time I met with Billie, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I had broken up with Cass for the thirteenth time, and this time I made it very apparent that we weren't going to get back together. She was one of the only people I had strongly loved, and even though I was the one who called it quits, I was still distraught over it. Not only that, but Mikey was in the hospital at the time to have his tonsils removed and I couldn't afford to take off of work and visit him. Billie had come into the store to checkup on business and found me in the backroom with my legs brought up to my chest and my forehead resting on my knees. I wasn't exactly crying, but I was definitely hyperventilating, my chest heaving up and down in uncontrollable spasms.

"That's good to hear." He added with a smile, releasing my hand to look at Cass and Frank. His eyes rested on the boy, but he didn't miss a beat in trying to figure out who he was. 

"Is this the new guy you told me about?" He asked Cass, gesturing to Frank. When she nodded, Billie smiled kindly to him. "Glad to have you on the team. Felix, was it?"

"Frank." He corrected, his body language becoming more rigid as he had to say that the man was wrong.

I didn't know why Frank was becoming stiff, but I had to guess that it was because of Billie. The guy had that effect on some people - making them feel awkward when that wasn't his intentions. Sometimes it's the exact opposite. For me, when I first met him, I felt incredibly welcomed and relaxed when I was around Billie. We did have similar personalities, though, which might have made our connection stronger. I didn't know what Frank was like, who he was, just by knowing him for barely a day. There were things about him I didn't know, things that I wanted to know, that I wouldn't for a very long time. I wouldn't know why and if Billie made him anxious or confused for quite some time. I didn't know why, but knowing that made me upset. I wanted to know more about this kid, and it couldn't have been just because he was now a coworker.

Billie apologized for not remembering Frank's name the first time, and then looked up to the storefront. "So what exactly happened here? I heard about the whole gunpoint thing, but that can't be the end of the story." 

He turned to me, expecting answers, but Cass spoke on my behalf. "I told the guy he could keep what he was trying to steal, and then Frank threatened him and the guy left without the item. There isn't much to it, we just wanted to make sure you knew about it before someone else told you."

"Hold on," Billie said, trying to comprehend what he was just told. He turned to Frank and shook his head softly. "You threatened the guy?"

"It wasn't exactly a threat." he stated plainly, his voice calm and even.

Billie stared at him for a few seconds before speaking. "You still can't threaten customers, it ruins buisness."

Cass took a small step forward, trying to get the point across that she was being incredibly serious. "The guy tried to steal from the store, and held us up at gunpoint. What did you want us to do? Stand there and let him fucking shoot us?"

"That's not what I meant, I was just -"

"No. You're saying that Frank should've kept his mouth shut so it didn't ruin this shitty buisness." Cass scoffed, shaking her head at Billie. "We could have fucking died and all you're worried about is the store? All you care about is how much money we bring in each day?"

Billie took in a deep. "I shouldn't have said that, I didn't mean it, Cass. I was trying to say for future reference, he shouldn't threaten anyone. It's bad for buisness."

"There you go with the whole buisness talk again." Cass took a step backwards, and then crossed her arms over her chest. "You know what, Billie? Out of the two years I've worked here, I don't think you've ever given a shit about my life. I've asked for the smallest amount of raises when I didn't have enough to pay my bills; I had to live on Gerard's couch for three months before I had enough cash to get another place. I ask for days off and I can't get them because you say we don't have enough people to cover for me. Maybe if we had more employees then nothing horrible would ever happen here again."

I was able to hear the sarcasm in her voice when she said the last sentence, but every other word she spoke was laced with venom. She hated that she didn't get her way, and that was the only time she'd been able to express it to our boss in the past couple of years. I have to admit, the way that job was set up was awful. The only time I got days off was when Cass clocked me in and out, and neither of us told Billie that I would be taking time off. The worst thing that had ever happened - other than the whole gunpoint thing - probably was when Cass had to sleep on my couch for three months. She showed up at my door with three duffle bags filled with her belongings, her expression lost and helpless. It was the first time she actually begged me to help her. We weren't dating at the time, so I knew it was a bad situation when she showed up. It was a hard time for both of us. I was still recovering from the last time we broke up, she was constantly going out with a different guy almost every night. The only time I felt content during those three months was when we drunkenly messed around, but when morning came around I always had a feeling of guilt, a feeling that whatever I had done with her was wrong. 

"Cass, can we talk about this another time?" Billie's eyes flickered down to Frank, and then back up to her. "A lot's happened here today and I think it would be best if we could talk in privet."

Cass let out a breathy laugh. "I can't stand this job. For two years I've been trying to talk to you about this and you brush it off." she looked past Billie and locked eyes with me before focusing back on our boss and continuing. "I love working with Gerard, and I'm sure I would have loved working with Frank, too, but I can't do this anymore. I quit."

Billie stood in silence, shocked by her words. None of us spoke because none of us knew what to say. I understood that she was upset, she had been upset since she started working at Super Comics, but I hadn't expected her to quit like this. 

"I hate to see you go," Billie finally commented, nodding to her softly. "but if that's -"

"There's no 'but'." Cass interrupted, "I'm done. I quit." without any of us speaking another word, she turned around and began to walk back towards her car, digging a cigarette out of her jacket pocket before climbing into the car and starting the engine. 

Billie turned around to face me, the look in his eyes telling me that he was very confused on what just happened. I shrugged softly before taking a step towards Super Comics, trying to hint that we should all go inside to talk. Frank immediately followed my queue, and when I began walking toward the building, he walked behind me to follow me inside. We stood inside of the dim-lit building for a few moments before Billie walked in, his expression defeated, almost as if he had no idea what had cause Cass to walk out. I would have felt bad for him if if didn't treat me the same way he had treated her. 

I leaned up against the front of the counter, my eyes on Frank who was nervously picking at his fingers next to the end of an isle. He was so quiet, almost fragile looking. It seemed as if he's never let someone into his life, like he's always had a wall built around him so no one could get close. He wasn't phased by Cass leaving, wasn't the least bit scared when she began to list off reasons why she hated working here. If seventeen year old me would have been put in the same position, I would have been shaking incredibly hard, horrified that she might begin yelling at me too. Frank wasn't like me, though. There was something about him that made me believe he already had a level-head. He already had an amount of composure that I would never be able to achieve.

"So where were you when the gun incident happened?" Billie asked, his eyes locked onto me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I could have said that I was on my lunch break, but he would have known that I would have been back at the store by the time Cass and Frank were threatened. There was a sinking feeling in my chest, and I wished Frank wasn't there so I could face whatever my boss had to tell my head-on. "I... I was at home."

"Why were you at home? All of this happened after your break ended, so you should have been here."

I pressed myself closer to the counter, wishing that I could melt into it instead of having this conversation. I looked over to Frank, feeling pressured to lie while in front of him. Nobody needed to know that I went home to deal with my anxiety. No one had to know that I cried until I passed out. That wasn't something you said in front of people you barely knew. "Can we..." I shifted my gaze back to Billie. " Can we talk about this alone? I wasn't here. That's all I'm going to say right now."

Billie stared at me and I could see his mind trying to process what he was told. I wasn't sure if he believed me or not, but he nodded once to signal that we didn't have to talk about it that moment. He looked down at the watch on his arm, and then looked up at Frank who was still examining his hands. "Why don't you head home, kid? It's been a long day and we're closing up a little early."

Frank looked at me whenever he was told that he could leave. It looked as if he was about to ask my permission to go, but then I realized that I was the one that had brought him into work that morning. "Do you need me to take you?" I asked, leaning away from the counter in case he said yes. 

He shook his head, looked towards the door, and then back up to me. "No, I can find a ride."

"Are you sure?" I asked, not wanting him to get into another bad situation. He had obviously been able to handle himself in the last one, but I would have felt better knowing that he got home safely. I didn't want to have to pick him up for work tomorrow and find out that he was mugged on his way home from work. Of course, it was only four in the afternoon, but if he ended up walking home, who knows how long it would be before he made it into the east side.

Frank nodded in conformation, "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Am I still picking you up for work tomorrow?" I didn't know if he still wanted to work here. After today, if I was in his shoes, I would have quit immediately and found a different job.

"Don't worry about coming in tomorrow." Billie interrupted, "Take a three day weekend, come back in on Monday. I'm going to look for more employees over the weekend, try to get you guys some more help around here."

His words hit me hard. So after all the years I've worked here, after all the times we've constantly asked for more hands, he only gets it after Cass quits? It was unbelievable, but I was still grateful that more people would be coming soon. I looked at Frank, who seemed to be contemplating on whether to leave or stay and see what happened next. "You wanna give me your number?" I asked him, holding out my phone to him so he could enter his contact. "I'll text you Sunday to see if you're still up for this job."

Frank took my phone from me, quickly typing in his contact information before handing the phone back to me. He didn't even speak, just gave me a small, sheepish smile as he sidestepped towards the door. "I'll see you Monday." he stated, fulling turning towards the door so he could walk out of the store.

When he left and the door shut tightly, Billie turned to me, a look of wonder in his eyes. "So what's the reason you were at home way after your break ended?"

There it was - the inevitable question I didn't want to answer. He already knew so much about me. He knew that I wasn't the most stable person, he knew that I only talked to my brother when things started to head south. He knew about how many times I had gotten back together with Cass, and he knew that I had difficulty starting relationships when I know almost nothing about the other person. Billie and I weren't that close anymore, but in the past we had been. Before I started working at Super Comics, I was still in high school. I couldn't have been more than seventeen but I knew already that I wasn't ever going to get a real job. I liked music. I liked comic books. I liked art. There wasn't anything in the real world where I could do something with those interests. That was when I met Billie. He asked me if I was looking for a job, and then proceeded to tell me about how he just opened up a music store in the middle of town. I told him that I wasn't exactly looking for a job at the moment, but he insisted that I take his buisness card anyway, telling me that if I changed my mind to give him a call. It took me about six months, but I did end up calling him. A job sounded great, especially if I was looking to get out of my parent's house at some point. When I called, Billie had told me that the music store had turned into a comic book store, and that if it didn't bother me that they no longer sold music, they would be glad to hire me. At the time, it was just me and Billie working there. Ever since the beginning we've been short on employees, which makes me wonder on why I didn't quit like Cass did long ago. However, since it was just the two of us, we spent a lot of time together, and although I had just turned eighteen and he was twenty three, that didn't stop us from forming a romantic relationship.

It wasn't anything heavy at first. We went on dates, bought each other gifts, the usual boyfriend routine. When things started to get sexual, I didn't know how to handle it. I didn't know if we were moving too fast, or if we were going on a pace that was just right for our relationship. I didn't know if I was supposed to enjoy certain things, or if through most if it I was just there for his pleasure. It was awkward for me at first, all of it was incredibly awkward, but as time went on I grew accustomed to certain things. I began to respond to touches that I hadn't before, and I could tell that Billie knew I liked what he did a lot more than before. It was all going so great, but I had to break up with him. We weren't a couple anymore, or at least that was how it felt. We stopped going out on dates, stopped doing everything we used to do when we first started going out. Every time I brought it up, he would tell me that we could always go out tomorrow night, and that I should come back to bed. Tomorrow night's plans never got there, and I realized that we weren't going to work out. 

I focused my train of thought back onto the current moment, trying to push away my past and anything that might interfere with this conversation. "I had an anxiety attack," I admitted, hoping that he didn't ask why. I couldn't out Frank or Cass by telling him I caught them exchanging weed. I wouldn't do that to them, I couldn't.

"And you thought that staying at home for three hours would help that?"

"I lost track of time. I... I didn't mean to, I just... I just thought that -"

"Thought that you would be able to get over it by the time your break was over?"

"Yeah."

The look on his face was something I'll never be able to forget. It was a mix of pity and love and the desire to help me. It was a look I hadn't seen come from him in a long time, and I wasn't exactly sure if I liked it or not.

"I thought you got over your anxiety." He said, taking a couple of steps towards me.

I shrugged. "You can't get over something that you don't believe you have."

There was that look again. He wanted to help me, he wanted to find out what was making me anxious and stop it. He wanted to make sure I was okay but it was all for the wrong reasons, I knew it was. He didn't want me, he didn't even love me, he just wanted someone beside him that he knew wouldn't cheat on him. "You know," he said softly, looking up at me, "you can always come to me if you need something."

He pressed his hand against my stomach and I immediately felt uneasy. It wasn't him touching me, I knew that wasn't it, but it was just him in general. I wasn't anything to him other than a toy. This wasn't something I needed right now. I didn't need him running his hands down me if we weren't going to be anything more than that. Billie stepped closer to me, his hands closing around my shirt so it was bunched up into his fist. I bent my head downward involuntarily, a reflex that I didn't mean to have happen. I was about to push him away, but at the same time he brought his head upward, his lips touching mine. I knew that this was an awful idea. I couldn't let this happen. I had been used before by so many people, and I couldn't let it happen again, not like this. I snaked my hands up to Billie's chest, holding them there for a few moments, letting him kiss me, letting myself kiss him back. I couldn't deny that I missed this. I missed having someone this close to me, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't let him be on my mind every given moment of the day. I couldn't let him use me and not show me off to the world like I wasn't good enough. I couldn't do that again.

I pushed him away from me, breaking our kiss and pressing myself back against the counter to separate us even more. "I'm sorry. I just... I can't." I knew that I was cornered now, that if he really wanted to, he could grab me and I wouldn't be able to squirm away. I'd been in this position before with him, but this was the first time he ever backed off and didn't try to make me see his side of things.

"You're right," he murmured, taking a couple of steps back and looking up at me. "I shouldn't have tried anything. Just..." Billie took in a deep breath, trying to regain his thoughts. "Just remember to lock up when you leave, alright? Don't want anyone stealing from the store." he flashed me a small smile before turning around to leave. 

When the door shut behind him, I turned around to face the counter, my elbows pressing against the glass counter top. I didn't know what to think. Earlier that day I had been lying on my apartment floor, regretting everything in my life, then I had to deal with Frank and Cass being held at gun point. I had to witness Cass quitting her job of two years, and go through one of my ex's kissing me. It had been an unpredictable day, and something told me that it was just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. I know the ending is rushed and weird, it even felt that way writing it, but I had no other way to end it without this exceeding 7k+ words. I've started writing the next chapter, and it should hopefully be done sooner than how long it took me to write this one.


	4. Crying is For Little Kids, Which I Apparently Happen to Be

Once I pulled up to the front of my apartment, I immediately dug my phone out of my pocket. I was still sitting inside of the car as I began scrolling through my contacts looking for a specific name.

Mikey.

I sat in silence as I listened to the ringing tone, waiting for my brother to pick up. It was a Thursday, but it was also past four so he should have been at home then, able to answer my call without getting into trouble. Normally he answered my calls on the second ring, but that day it took a little longer. By the fifth ring, I heard the voice of my brother, who sounded a little agitated that I had called.

"Hello?" He asked, his voice staticky through the receiver.

"Hey, Mikes," I responded, a smile spreading across my lips even though I knew he was annoyed at me for something. Sometimes it was just good for me to hear his voice, especially after a day like mine had been. "I was wondering if you could stop by? We got a new employee and Cass quit, so today was -"

Mikey interrupted me, his tone more astonished than upset now, "Wait, she quit? How the hell did that happen?"

"If you come over I'll tell you."

He sighed softly, but audible enough for the speaker to pick it up. "Fine, okay. I'll be over in ten, just... Just gimmie a couple minutes."

My grin spread wider, and I managed to get out a "Great." before hanging up the phone and exiting my car.

It was nearly four-thirty when I drove up to my apartment, so by the time I actually walked up all of the stairs to reach my front door, it was dawning on four-thirty five. Mikey would be here soon, seeing that he kept his word of arriving in ten minutes. Normally he was five minutes off, coming late rather than early. I've never understood what took him so long to go places, but it was his signature. Invite Mikey to come somewhere and he's bound to be late.

My apartment looked the exact same it did when I left it nearly an hour ago, which wouldn't have made a difference to me if it didn't hold the same emotions. The moment that I walked into the door, I felt heavy. My body was weighed down and if my hand wasn't pressed against the closed door, they was no doubt in my mind that I would have fallen over. It was a rush of something I couldn't quite explain, almost as if my previous happenings still had an effect on the surroundings. My mind, my body, we're both affected. It felt as if I was being dragged back down into the situation I was put through earlier. I stepped away from the door, heading over to the kitchen counter where I put my phone and my keys down next to the sink. I couldn't do this again, not right now at least. With Mikey about to come over, I couldn't have another attack due to everything that happened when I came into a work a second time. So, I put my elbows onto the kitchen counter and leaned forward, letting the counter support my weight. I knew that I couldn't do anything, only simply wait for Mikey to arrive so he could calm my nerves.

Time never mattered to me whenever I was feeling like that. My existence was irrelevant, and I was simply falling through my life without a care in the world. I didn't know how long I was standing there like that, with my body pressed against the counter. It could have been five minutes, it could have been thirty, but I snapped out of my daze when I heard two knocks on my door, followed by the sound of footsteps against my apartment floor.

"So why'd she quit?" Mikey asked me, closing the door.

I turned around to face him, a faint smile on my lips. It was the first time I had seen him in person for at least two weeks. We were close as siblings, even when we were younger, and there's no doubt in my mind that we still needed each other's support. "Not enough help, not enough pay, not enough days off." I shrugged like it was no big deal, although I could easily quit for the exact same reasons. "Billie pushed her over the edge. I'm not surprised, really. He's kind of an ass, doesn't know when to stop."

"Isn't he the same ass you dated for a year and a half?" Mikey weaved his way through my small apartment, passing the kitchenette to sit on the couch that seated two. He of course stretched out on it, laying across both cushions to prop his feet up on one of the arms.

I nodded as I walked over to join him, bypassing the couch to sit on a stool opposite of him. "Yeah, he is. I want to say that he's different now but I really don't think he is."

"Do you expect someone to change their entire personality in two years?"

"No, but...." I didn't know if I should tell him that we kissed. I know he didn't want to hear about it, he didn't want to hear about anything intimate we did when we were actually dating, so why would he want to know now? That had been two years ago, though, and Mikey was sixteen then. Maybe he's had matured, grown used to me talking about my experiences. Or maybe he was still my little brother who didn't want to hear about what I was going through.

"Alright," Mikey said, shaking his head as he brought his feet down to the ground to sit up straight. "Something happened between you two that you're not telling me." His eyes met mine and he quirked an eyebrow, trying not to make the conversation serious. "Spill it."

I took in a deep breath, still looking at him as I fished for words. He had asked to hear about it, so I shouldn't feel guilty if he really didn't want to know, right? "We kissed. But it wasn't -"

"Hold on," he held up his hand, forcing me to stop speaking. "You kissed him? Like you kissed the guy who made the beginning of your adult life miserable?"

I knew that I shouldn't have brought it up. Mikey knew what Billie had done to me. He knew that he made me feel lesser as a person, like he was in control of me. He knew that I felt pressured to do everything he asked me to do because I didn't want to be left with a broken heart. He knew that it had been a toxic relationship that I had difficulty getting out of, that I regretted breaking up with him almost every day afterword. I could finally be my own person without Billie holding my arm and telling me not to, and Mikey knew that. It was why my little brother was so worked up over that I had kissed him.

"Well, I didn't kiss him, alright? He kissed me."

"But did you kiss him back?" Mikey leaned forward, his elbows pressed against his knees.

I swallowed, not sure if I should answer the question or not say anything and let him catch onto what had happened. I decided to take the silent tactic, biting my lip as I looked at him with weary eyes.

He fell back against the couch, letting out a sigh, not saying anything directly to me, but he didn't have to. I knew that I shouldn't have kissed him back, it was wrong, but I couldn't help myself. I knew Mikey wouldn't understand that, he didn't understand why I went out with him in the first place, so anything I would try to tell him would just be a loss of words.

"I didn't mean to, alright?" I would try to explain, I would try to tell him that I knew I shouldn't, that I knew it was all wrong, but I wouldn't know if he truly believed me. "He kissed me and I... I just missed it, I missed the feeling of having him - of having someone - that close to me."

"So you go out and find someone to date, you don't kiss your ex."

"I pushed him away. I didn't let it go too far."

He sat back up properly to look me in the eyes. "But you still kissed him back." This was the first time I had seen Mikey so serious with me. In the past, he had always shown that he cared about me, but never as much as he did that moment. He didn't want me going back to Billie. He knew that Billie was the one who made me secluded for almost two years.

I looked down at my lap, letting my hair fall down into my face. I felt ashamed, almost as if I had actually done something wrong. It was just a kiss. It wasn't like I was dating anyone when it happened. He came onto me, I reciprocated what little feelings I had left for him, and then I pushed him away because I knew it wasn't right. I shouldn't feel bad about it. I shouldn't have felt like Mikey was the one who told me what to do and what not to do. Honestly, I just wanted the topic of conversation to change.

"So," I looked up from my lap, "how've you been?"

Mikey sighed, obviously not wanting to move on from my wrongdoings with Billie. "I've been alright. Dad's been freaking out over paying bills, which is making Mom stressed, and you know how she gets when she's stressed."

I breathed out a laugh. "Yeah, she's never fun to be around when she gets like that." A corner of my mouth curled up, giving me a lopsided smile. "So is there anyone knew in your life?"

"Anyone knew? Like, girlfriend new, or friend new?"

"Either one."

"Not really. I mean, there's a new chick that sits behind me in math, but we've only smiled at one another. You know, like that really awkward smile you're supposed to give in order to seem nice?"

I knew the one. By working at a comic book store for almost five years, I knew how to make that awkward smile seem genuine. "You gonna try to get with her?"

He shrugged, "Probably not. She's cute and all, but not really what I'm looking for, you know?"

I nodded, even though I didn't know what she looked like, or what he was looking for. It made sense, though, that he wouldn't want to go out with someone he wasn't interested in. If she didn't reciprocate any feelings, then there was no need to even try. "Did I tell you we got a new guy?"

"Did you get him before or after Cass quit?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Before, but that didn't change her mind on quitting." I bit my lip, unsure if I should tell him why Frank had even agreed to keep the job. I knew that I should say something, but I wasn't sure if my brother would react positively to the plan that had already been set in stone. "So, uh, the new guy...."

"Is he cute?"

I stifled a laugh. "You want a piece of him?"

Mikey shook his head. "You know I don't swing that way."

"You dated that Pete guy for a while."

"We weren't even dating, how many times do I have to tell you that?" His tone had taken more of a defensive stance, signaling to me that something had happened between the two of them.

I held up my arms, giving off the effect that I was innocent and he shouldn't be blaming me for anything. "Alright, okay, fine. But the new guy is cute. He's a year younger than you, though so I can't do anything with him anyway." I rolled my eyes, trying to make my last words sound like a joke. "But there is a catch with him, and I kinda need your help."

"My help?" He asked, sitting up straighter so he seemed alert. "What kind of help?"

Maybe he would be interested in helping me keep a drug dealer's step son working for us. At first, I wasn't so sure, I was hesitant on even asking, but now I thought that there was a good chance he would like being caught up in something top secret. "It's a big deal, Mikey. You can't tell anyone or a lot of people will get in trouble."

"Yeah, yeah... What's going on?"

"The new kid, Frank, he's a drug dealer, and I don't know exactly -"

"Wait, he's a drug dealer?" Mikey's voice was laced with concern and confusion. "You have a drug dealer working for Super Comics?"

I nodded once, confirming what he had asked. "Yeah, but he only sells pot, so it's not going to be that big of a deal unless Billie finds out. It's the kid's stepdad I'm worried about. I think he's so high end drug dealer but I have no idea."

"What's his name?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Mikey pierced his lips together and nodded slowly, trying to think of the appropriate thing to say. "I know some people who are into the scene. They could probably get info if you want it."

"You can't tell anyone about this, I already said that."

"I know, I know." He shook his head and sat back into the couch, slinging his arm over the side of the arm rest. "Just tell me the guy's name and I'll bring it up in conversation. I won't bring up the kid or anything."

I stared at my younger brother, unsure if I could take his word. I knew that Mikey never meant to cause anybody any harm, but when he did it was a complete accident. I didn't want anything bad to happen at all, and the only way to prevent that from happening was to not tell him anything. I knew, also, that if I didn't tell him that he would think I've lost trust in him. We used to tell each other everything, even when the other didn't want to hear it. I felt obligated to tell him, but I knew it wasn't right.

"His name's Matteo Iero." I paused, rethinking my actions of telling him. "I'm serious, though, Mikey. You can't tell anyone that Frank's a dealer, or that he's related to Matteo in any way, alright?"

"I won't, geez. Have a little faith in me."

"I do have faith in you," sighing, I adverted my eyes to the floor. "I just really don't want you, or me, or anyone to be caught up in a bad situation with a drug dealer and his family."

Mikey began to stand, which caused me to look up at him. "You're starting to sound really weird, Gerard." At a slow pace, he made his way over to the kitchenette, his hands opening random cabinets in search for something in particular. My eyes followed him as he moved, but I didn't stand to join him. He kept his body facing away from me, but turned his head to look at me as he spoke. "You got anything to drink?"

His question made me stand up, but I didn't move any closer to him. "Mikey, you're too young to be drinking."

Mikey turned around completely, his head tilted sideways very slightly. "It's not for me, it's for you, you uptight hypocrite."

I tried not to laugh, but I knew it was true. When I was eighteen, I drank more than I would like to admit. Since then I had gotten better and I knew how to limit myself, but I still was a hypocrite for saying that Mikey was too young to be drinking.

I shook my head in response to his efforts in trying to get me to drink. "I'm too old to be drinking."

"You're twenty-two." He stated, his voice exasperated, seeming as if he was done with putting up with my comments.

I shrugged and sat back down, leaning forward so my elbows rested on my knees. "When you're twenty-two, I want you to come talk to me after a really fucked up day and tell me you don't feel old."

"Alright, deal."

I laughed, my eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "You really think that you're going to live that long?"

Mikey stepped away from the counter, walking halfway back to the living room before stopping. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It was a joke. You get yourself into weird situations, dude."

"But I always get out of them," he responded, turning back around to continue his search for liquor. "Seriously, though, do you have anything to drink?"

I shook my head and stood up, walking to join him in the kitchenette. "Why are you so desperate to get me drunk?"

"Not drunk," he said, closing a cabinet just to open another one, "just a little buzzed. You're high strung right now."

"I'm not high strung."

"That's something that someone who's high strung would say." Mikey's hand curled around the neck of a bottle of bourbon. "Here." He stated, closing the cabinet and making his was back over to me.

His held the bottle out to me and I took it from him, holding it in my hands but not opening it just yet. "Can I at least tell you what I need your help with before I drink?"

He sat back down on the couch, stretching out again so his long legs were draped over the armrest. "Yeah, go ahead."

"Alright, so," I sat the bottle down on the floor beside me. "Since the kid's stepdad is a drug dealer and all, he's having to go behind his back because he doesn't know how he'll react if he finds out that his stepson has another job."

"By 'another job', do you mean something other than drug dealing?"

I nodded, "Yeah. Frank keeps calling it a family business but I don't know if that's true. Anyway, I kind of told the kid that he can tell his stepdad that he's hanging out with you whenever he's working, which is the only reason he agreed to stay at Super Comics."

Mikey leaned his head back, pressing it against the couch's armrest. "So I just have to pretend to be friends with this guy?"

"Pretty much. I mean, it'd be great if you could come in and meet him sometime."

"What am I supposed to do? Just walk into the store?"

"You got any better ideas?"

Mikey lifted his head to look at me and scowled. "You can't like bring him back here or something?"

I didn't answer his question, but instead stared at him for a handful of seconds before responding. "Why don't you want to come into the store?"

"It's not that," he put his head back down onto the armrest. "I just don't like that part of town."

"You drive over here all the time." I contradicted, trying to figure out what he was saying."

He shook his head. "That's because you're over here, Gerard. The East side gives me weird vibes, alright? I don't like it."

"Well, I'm sorry that I'm not living with mom and dad anymore, because that's the only other option I have." My tone had bitten into something more serious, and my arm shot downward so I could wrap my hand around the neck of the liquor bottle beside me. "I can barely even afford this place, so if you really don't like the East side, I can quit my job and move back home."

Mikey sat up, dragging his feet off of the couch's armrest so they sat on the floor. "That's not what I meant. I was saying that the East side has a lot of bad things going on, but you're the only good reason why I come here." I didn't comment, but instead stared at him with cold eyes, expecting him to explain more. That day had been one of my worst days in a while, and the only reason I had called my younger brother over was because I thought he would make it better. "There's a lot of shady people here, Gerard. Like... Like that kid you're telling me about. Frank, right? His family deals drugs, he deals drugs, and I'm having to pretend to be his friend so he can work at a comic store? It's just weird, dude. I don't like it."

"Living in suburbia has its major downfalls, so don't tell me why this side of town is trash." I raised the bottle of liquor up from the floor so it sat in my lap, ready to be opened at any given moment.

Mikey stayed silent, both of us just staring at one another. I knew that he didn't know how to get out of this situation, and I had a feeling he knew that I was trying to pick a fight. I didn't want to fight with him, but I had been worked up and now I felt like I needed to shove someone around. I didn't want that to be my brother, I didn't want it to be myself, or even anyone else, but something was about to happen I was going to regret. I kept my gaze glued onto him, my hand wrapped tightly around the bottle of bourbon. By that point, I didn't know if I was going to drink it or throw it. I wanted Mikey to leave, but I also wanted him to stay to make sure I didn't do something stupid. It had been an awful day, for me at least, and after feeling like I had been insulted, I wanted to get passed-out-drunk. I clenched my jaw tight, trying not to let any emotions push past the boundaries of my face. After finding out my ex-girlfriend/ex-coworker was buying drugs from a new employee, after going home and having a major anxiety attack for three hours, after finding out that Cass and Frank had been held at gunpoint, after Cass quitting, and after kissing Billie for the first time in two years, I felt like I deserved to drink my entire liquor cabinet - even though it was only three half-sized bottles in total.

I looked away from Mikey, my head hanging downward so I stared at the carpet instead. My shoulders lurched forward when I let out a sob, which leaded into me making a choking sound. My brother stood up immediately, walking over to me to put his arm around my shoulder. He sunk to his knees beside me so we were eye level, but I didn't turn to look at him. Instead, I pressed my right shoulder into his chest, his chin resting on the top of my head. He put his other arm around me to wrap around my chest, locking his fingers together so he was practically holding me. Neither of us had been good at comforting people, neither of us particularly liked comforting people, but when it came to each other, there wasn't anything in the world that would stop us from trying to make the other feel better. I sat there silently, continuing to make strangled choking sounds as I gritted my teeth to try and withhold tears. The carpet my eyes were fixed on became blurry as tears filled the corners of my eyes. That time, I let out an audible sob, pressing harder into Mikey's chest as the first of many hot tears streamed down my face.

The arms around my body tightened, drawing me closer to the person they belonged to. I turned my head to the side, my cheek pressed against my brother's collar bone. "You really should go see your therapist again," he whispered. I wasn't exactly sure if that was something I was supposed to hear, but I had.

It had been at least two months since I last visited with my therapist, whereas I used to see her normally twice a week. She had called me a couple times to check up on me, but I always lied and told her I was doing great, that maybe I would come in the following week. It never happened, and I didn't tell Mikey everything that went on in my life, so I knew that keeping some of the events in my life and thoughts that went through my head to myself was what was eating me alive. I didn't want to see her again, but I knew that it was what was best for me.

I didn't respond to his comment. I sat there with my head against Mikey's neck, my shoulder pressed into his chest, my hands still clutching the bottle of bourbon. I really wished that he hadn't dragged it out of the cabinet, because I felt obligated to drink it, even though I had a choice not to. I let the bottle slide out of my hands, hearing it thud against the floor as it made its six inch drop. My mind wasn't racing, but instead the exact opposite. All of my thoughts were very content, and I knew that I wasn't having an anxiety attack, but instead a moment of pure lonesome sadness. Moving my body slightly, I turned to face Mikey more, my arms wrapping around his torso as I pressed my face deeper into his neck. I knew that this had to be uncomfortable for him in some way, but I didn't care. It was like before, when Billie had kissed me. I wanted, I needed, a body to be next to me. I didn't care whose it was.

Mikey let me stay pressed against him for a few minutes, my whole body rhythmically moving at once each time I sobbed. Eventually, he removed his arms from around me, and put his hands on my shoulders, pushing me away from him so I was forced to look him in the eyes. I let go of him completely, bringing my arms away from him and instead crossing them over my stomach. "Do you want me to stay here tonight? You know that mom won't mind."

I didn't know if he was offering for my comfort or for his reassurance that I wouldn't do something drastic once he left. Either way, I knew it would make me feel better if he stayed, but I didn't know if I wanted him to. I wanted to drink, I wanted to pass out on my bed and wake up tomorrow night. I wanted to get so wasted that I couldn't stand. I wanted to call up Cass and see if she would join me, hoping that maybe, just maybe, we'd end up messing around in our drunken state. I couldn't do that if Mikey was here. My little brother kept me sane, and I was grateful for that, but that night I didn't want to be sane. That night I wanted to forget everything that was on my mind.

I shook my head and swallowed hard, snaking one of my hands up to my face to wipe the diminishing tears from my cheeks. "I'll be fine." I said, dropping my hand back into my lap.

He stared at me with worried eyes, but didn't oppose. "Call me if you need anything, alright?" When he stood up from his position on the floor, I craned my head to look up at him. "I don't want you doing something you'll regret."

"I won't," I lied. "I'm probably just going to try and get some sleep."

"Sounds like a good plan." He said as he began to make his way to the door. When his hand it the door knob, he turned back around to look at me. "Oh yeah, before I go, you should know that I'll stop by the store Monday after school to meet that kid."

And with that, he left, closing the door behind him so I was alone in my apartment, free from anyone else unless I invited them in. Which, of course, I planned to do.

_________________________________________

When I had called Cass, it seemed like she was more confused than anything else. However, when I asked her if she wanted to come over and drink, she wasn't opposed. I had told her to bring over a couple bottles of whatever, since my own stock of drinks were running low. She didn't ask why or even tell me no, but said that she would be over in thirty minutes, that she had to run by her friend's house to pick up liquor, since she wasn't legally allowed to buy it herself yet.

By the time that Cass knocked on my door and stepped inside, I had already downed about half of the bottle of bourbon Mikey had drug out. I wasn't tipsy, but I had a slow buzz going on. I sitting on the couch, slouched and lounging, when she walked over to me and set the two bottles in her hands onto the floor. She stared down at me, a questioning look on her face as I raised the bottle up to my lips multiple times in silence, taking swigs and ignoring the raw, burning feeling in the back of my throat.

"What's the matter with you?" she asked, sitting down beside me and putting her hand on my knee.

I turned my head to look at her, the bottle sat on my lap as I did so. "My life is awful." I nodded to the bottles sitting on the floor that she had brought. "Now, are you going to drink with me or just stare at me and make me feel guilty?"

"Hand me a bottle." she said, sighing, and reaching out her hand for me to give her one. I smile and picked one up off the floor, handing it to her and sitting back into the couch. "Do you at least want to tell me why you're so hung up, though?" she cracked the seal of the bottle and leaned her back against the arm rest of the couch.

I shrugged, debating if she even really wanted to know. We weren't dating, so why did she care? I thought that it was probably one of those polite things to ask someone when they were upset, but I didn't mind answering since we were both about to get hammered. I held up my index finger to begin counting everything that was making me want to drink, "You and that cute new kid got held up at gunpoint."

"Cute new kid?" Cass asked, raising her eyebrows and bringing her bottle of whiskey up to her mouth. "You gonna try to get with him, or...?"

"He's still a minor." I stated, dropping my hand into my lap and taking another swig of alcohol. I had began to feel the effects of the drink, but I wouldn't let it stop me. "But he is a hot piece of flesh - I wouldn't mind getting my hands on him."

Cass laughed, or really giggled, at my comment. "Is that the only reason you're drinking? Because we got held at gunpoint?"

I shook my head. "Billie also kissed me."

"Dude, what? I thought you two were long over."

"We are," I swallowed another mouthful of bourbon. "but he cornered me after you left. Kinda hard to get away from that."

Cass was in the middle of swallowing when I finished speaking, so it took her a couple of seconds before she was able to respond. "Cornered? Did he force you to -"

"No." I interrupted, waving a hand to get her to stop speaking. "He didn't force me to do anything, I swear."

She shifted on the couch, bringing her legs under her so she sat cross-legged as she spoke to me. "So what all happened? I mean, it couldn't have been just a kiss or you wouldn't be wanting to drink your life away."

"He grabbed my shirt and I bent my head down and he just kissed me. I kissed him back, but I knew it wasn't right so I pushed him away." I raised the bottle to my lips again, waiting for Cass to speak.

"So why are you drinking?"

I lowered my eyes at her in annoyance and lowered the bourbon into my lap, thinking that I had already told her why I was drinking. Her and Frank were held at gunpoint, and Billie had kissed me. That was why. There was of course multiple different things from the past adding onto my need to drink, but for today, those were the only two reasons. "If you haven't caught on by now it doesn't matter." I raised the bottle back up to my mouth and nodded to her, "Drink." I said, tilting my head back to let the liquid run down my throat.

When I lowered the bottle back down and looked at Cass, she was staring at me in confusion. We looked at one another for a few moments, but she eventually brought her own liquor up to her mouth and began to swallow.

"How drunk are you planning to get?" She asked, her eyes flickering down to look at the three full bottle of alcohol sitting on the floor.

I scooted closer to her on the couch, looking down at the bottles on the floor and humming quietly. "Enough to forget for a while."

She put her hand on my knee again, which made me look up at her. "Gee, if you drink all of that, you're going to forget a lot more than these worries."

"I'll be fine." I murmured, a little agitated, but still taking her words into consideration. I only had a couple more swallows of bourbon left in the bottle, so I reached down to sit it down onto the floor. When I sat back up, I looked at Cass, her hand still resting on my knee.

She shook her head softly, her greasy black hair moving out from behind her ears to fall into her face. "Look, normally I wouldn't mind getting drunk with you, but I don't think you're making good decisions."

"And you do make good decisions?"

She gave me a look that said 'good point', but didn't say anything that would defend her. "C'mon," Cass said, sitting her bottle of whiskey on the floor before standing up and holding her hand out to me.

"Where're we going?" I asked, grabbing her hand and letting her help me up from the couch. I stumbled slightly, but quickly regained my balance.

She didn't answer at first, leading me through my small apartment to open my bedroom door. I let a lopsided smile cross my face, but didn't say aloud what I was thinking. Cass, bedroom, what else could she be going for? I knew that I had promised myself that I was over her, that I wouldn't let her have an effect on me again, but when I was drunk, I couldn't help but have the thoughts. It was like before, when Billie kissed me. I didn't want Billie, I didn't want Cass then, I just wanted somebody with me, I just wanted somebody next to me. When she opened the door and dragged me behind her, I couldn't help but wonder what she was planning to do.

Then she put her hands on my shoulders, and pushed me down onto the bed.

I suppose that she meant to make me sit down, but with my poor state of balance, it felt as if I was being shoved down onto the bed, causing me to lay down completely. Cass sat down on the bed next to me, moving her head so she stared down at me. I reciprocated, staring up at her with wide eyes, wondering what happened next.

"I'm calling your brother." She said, beginning to move her hand to get her phone out of her pocket.

I raised my shoulder off of the mattress, sitting up slightly so I could put my hand on her arm, making her stop reaching for her phone. "No, don't."

"Why not?" She stopped moving her hand, and looked at me instead.

I shook my head, taking my hand off of her arm and laying back down onto the bed. "Before he left, he told me not to do something stupid. I think I've done something stupid."

Cass fished her phone out of her pocket and unlocked it, beginning to scroll through her contacts in search of Mikey's name. "You drank almost a whole bottle a bourbon; yeah, you've done something stupid."

"You normally drink more than that."

"Don't be pointing fingers, Gerard, you're the one who was drinking tonight." Cass raised the phone to her ear, signaling to me that she had my brother on the other end of the line. I rolled over onto my side - my back facing her - when she began speaking. "Hey Mikey, it's Cass.... Yeah, I'm fine, your brother's just an idiot."

"I'm not an idiot," I muttered, my face half-buried under the blankets.

"No, he hasn't done anything yet, really. He's just been drinking.... No, not as much as last time - it was only a bottle - he should be fine. I do expect him to have a massive hang - hm?.... Oh yeah, that would be great if you could..... I'll stay with him until you get here.... It's no problem, thanks for coming down. See ya, Mikey."

I rolled back over when she hung up the phone, looking up at her with questioning eyes.

Cass gave me a sympathetic smirk, "Your brother's coming over, so you better pass out or sober up."

Undoubtably, I took her words as a command, because I don't remember anyone coming or going later that night. I don't remember Mikey ever showing up or Cass leaving. I had a complete blackout, and I wasn't even sure who exactly took care of me. Someone did, though, which is all that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to incorporate Mikey more, since in future chapters he won't be as present. I hope that he wasn't too much for this chapter though


	5. Mental Therapy Leads to Physical Therapy

When I woke up, I had no sense of time. I didn't know what day it was, or how long I had been asleep, but I did know that the drilling feeling in my head was not pleasurable. I also knew that the sunlight filtering through the curtains of my bedroom was not beneficial to me either. I dragged my arm up from my side, slinging it across my face to try and block out the light, trying to help my headache.

"You're an idiot."

I removed my arm from my face, opening my eyes just slightly to see who had spoken. Mikey was sitting at the end of my bed, his phone in his lap as he looked at me with a disappointed face. I groaned, rolling over onto my side and shielding my eyes from the light with my arm once again. It was quiet for a few minutes, almost causing me to fall back asleep, but then my brother spoke again.

"You told me you weren't going to do something you'd regret."

I stayed still, unmoving and almost lifeless as I thought about his words. Had I really promised him that? It sounded like something I would say, but then turning around and doing the exact opposite wasn't something I normally did with Mikey. Then again, this wasn't exactly something I would regret. Sure, getting drunk over minuscule problems wasn't something that I was proud of, but it wasn't a regret either. I could handle a hangover, but what I couldn't handle was my little brother being disappointed in me.

I brought my arm away from my face and forced myself to open my eyes to look at Mikey, no matter how much my headache was effecting me. "I didn't mean to make -"

"You don't mean to do anything, Gerard."

After he said those words, I blinked in confusion, and then propped myself up on my side to look at him in full, trying to ignore the exploding feeling across my forehead. He had shifted his position, now sitting with his knees brought up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. He looked like a scared child, like someone you needed to protect from everything harmful in the world. I felt awful knowing that I had caused him to look like that, but I felt even worse not knowing exactly what I had done to him.

"What're you talking about?" I asked, closing my eyes for a few seconds to remove additional pain from the sunlight.

Mikey stayed silent for a moment, thinking about his words before speaking. "Ever since you stopped going to therapy, you've been hard to talk to."

I tried to process his words, but they didn't make sense to me. "What does therapy have to do with me?"

"You don't take your meds anymore," he murmured, looking towards my bedroom door instead of my face.

My eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "I haven't taken my meds in forever. What does that have to do with -"

"I can't have a normal conversation with you." This time, he looked at me when he spoke. "Every time you ask me to come over, I know that you've had a bad day, and every time I leave knowing that you're still upset. I feel like I can't help you with anything."

"I didn't ask you to try to help me."

"That's what I'm talking about, Gerard." He let go of his legs, stretching them out across the bed. "You're not yourself; you're hard to talk to. You try to pick a fight with me no matter what I say and it's getting old."

If I had been in a good state of mine - in this case, sober and mentally stable - I would have apologized for being such an asshole to him. He was my brother. I didn't want to make his life miserable. I didn't want him to feel like he had to help me, and then I wouldn't let him. That wasn't my intentions at all. I didn't even have any intentions. I just wanted to hang out with him, like old times, like how we used to when I still lived at home. I wanted it to feel like how it did when we were kids, but that obviously wasn't how life wanted to take its course. Life was going to do what it wanted to do, whether we liked it or not.

"When was the last time I fought with you?" My voice was bitter, a lot more bitter than I had ever intended, and I could see the fear in Mikey's eyes.

I hated that look. I hated seeing him scared. I hated him being scared of me, of what I was becoming. I knew I was bad off, I just didn't know how bad off I really was. I didn't know how much my actions effected him, and that was what hit me the most.

Mikey stared at me, ignoring my question,and instead stating facts. "You need to go to therapy."

"Why?" I asked, laying back down against the bed, closing my eyes and humming slightly from the relief of pain. "It's not like seeing her helped me any."

"That's what you think." he whispered. Whenever he spoke something he wasn't completely sure on, or spoke about something that worried him, his voice got quiet. It's what made me think that he actually cared for my wellbeing - at least made me believe he cared more than what I thought previously. "You were happy when you talked to someone every day, Gerard. You were happy when you were taking your meds, even when you thought they didn't helped you at all. When you stopped taking your meds - when you stopped seeing your therapist - it seemed like..." he drew in a shaky breath, rethinking his next words, but deciding to say them anyway. "It seemed like you weren't my brother anymore."

I swallowed hard, the back of my throat dry from either dehydration or nervousness. I felt like I was going to throw up, but I didn't know if it was caused by the hangover or from my current lack of compassion for my family. I didn't want him to feel like that. I didn't want him to feel like I had forgotten about him, like I had given up on myself and on him as well. I sat up immediately, the knots in my stomach growing worse as the thought of Mikey feeling as if I abandoned him continued to run through my mind. My body twisted so I was leaning over the bed, my arms extending to grab the small trashcan on the floor. I gagged, my throat closing as my stomach heaved, but nothing came up. My hands tightened around the trashcan and I spit, attempting to get the uneasy feeling out of my body. I sat the trashcan back onto the floor once I had decided that my stomach had settled. Rolling back onto my side, my back facing the door, I began to think about Mikey's words again.

"I'll always be your brother." I said to him, just loud enough to be heard, but not so loud that my headache would come piercing itself back into my skull.

I heard him scoff, but he didn't speak his disapproval. "I know that. You're just... You aren't the same when you try to do it all on your own."

"I'm not five, Mikey." I moved my head to look at him, but stayed on my side. "I know how to take care of myself."

"You obviously don't," he said, gesturing to me.

I suppose he was right. I didn't know how to take care of myself. One thing goes wrong and I overthink it all, driving myself into what my therapist would call an anxiety attack. If things got really bad - or if I thought they were really bad - I would drink an... unhealthy amount... for a twenty two year old man. I smoked every now and again, but that was really only because I didn't have anything better to do.

I stared at him, "So what do you want me to do? Check into a mental ward? I can do that if that's what you want,"

"Gerard, stop." I knew that Mikey could sense the hostility building up in my voice. "I just want you to see your therapist. I already scheduled an appointment for -"

"I'm not going." I protested.

"Please." He was begging me now. I had to admit that I liked it; I liked seeing someone so pitiful and pleading me to do something. A part of me knew that I shouldn't have liked seeing it, especially since it was my brother, but I couldn't help it.

I sighed, rolling over onto my back. "Fine, but you're coming with me."

"I was already planning to." Mikey grinned and stood up from the bed. "You might want to get dressed and sober up. It's four in the afternoon and your appointment's at five."

_________________________________________

Mikey had driven us both to the psychotherapy offices, his head turning every now and then to look at me in the passenger seat. For the majority of the drive, I had my knees brought up to my chest with my arms wrapped around my legs, my head pressed against my knees with enough force to ease my headache away. Even when we arrived at the building, I had refused for a good two minutes to get out of the car.

Eventually, he got out of the car by himself, walking around to the passenger side and opening up the door. He had asked me why I truly didn't want to go talk to my therapist, and when I couldn't come up with a legitimate reason, he put his arm around my shoulder and dragged me out of the car.

The whole time that I walked through the building to get to my therapist's office, I was groaning and letting out little strings of sentences about how my head hurt. Mikey was the least bit sympathetic, only guiding me by my shoulders and telling me "you did this to yourself". I knew that he was true, I just didn't want to believe it.

When the therapist called me in, Mikey asked if he actually wanted me to be in there with him. I told him yes, but immediately rethought my decision once I walked in and my therapist gave him an odd look. I sat down on the couch, Mikey sitting on the cushion next to me - close enough for comfort, but not so far away that it felt like he wasn't there. My therapist, Dr. Brown, looked at us, her eyes resting on Mikey before focusing back on me.

"It's been a while since I've seen you, Gerard. How have you been?" Dr. Brown was flipping through the papers in her lap, pausing at a particular one and bringing it to the front of the stack, her eyes scanning the paper before looking back up at me.

I shrugged, trying to ignore the headache that was still very present. "Fine, I guess." Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mikey look at me, knowing that it was out of disapproval.

She scribbled something down on the paper before her and looked back up. "Do you want to tell me why your brother is here with us today?"

"I told him that I wouldn't come see you if he wasn't with me."

"Were you withholding a visit with me?" Her voice was questioning and not at all forceful.

I paused before nodding. "Yeah, I guess."

"You guess?" She sat back into her chair, looking at me with an eyebrow raised.

"I'm not sure, alright? I'm not sure about anything."

Mikey was still looking at me, either perplexed by my answers or confused that I wasn't talking more about my issues. I felt as if the office was growing smaller, like the walls were closing in around us. The space was getting smaller and I didn't know why. It made my headache worse, making me feel dizzy. My breathing picked up its pace and I sat back into the couch, my left arm resting on the armrest and my hand going to my forehead to try and soothe my headache.

Dr. Brown obviously picked up on my discomfort, leaning forward in her seat to get closer to me. "Gerard, are you alright?"

"I'm hungover." I stated, my voice making the ringing in my head worse.

"Would you like some water?" She offered, beginning to stand up, but I shook my head.

"No, I'll be fine." I removed the hand from my head and bit my lower lip to try and compensate with the pain.

Dr. Brown sat back down when I turned down her offer. "Would you like to tell me why you were drinking?"

I was tempted to tell her no, but I knew that wouldn't get us anywhere and Mikey would just continue to stare at my in disappointment. I looked at her, wondering how much she believed she could get out of me. "A lot of little things." I paused, expecting her to edge me on but she didn't speak, only stared at me with questioning eyes. "Cass quit working at Super Comics, and I kind of kissed Billie Joe."

It was strange talking to your therapist like they were your best friend, like they knew every person in your life, when in reality they had only heard twisted stories about them. Dr. Brown only knew Cass because I used to date her, and she only knew about Billie because I used to date him. Nearly everyone I mentioned in our previous sessions were either a relative to me or an ex.

Dr. Brown looked at Mikey, and then back to me before speaking. "Are you sure you want him in here for this session?"

I nodded slowly. "He already knows everything about me, so it doesn't matter."

She wrote something down on the paper before her and then looked up to me. "Is this... Is this the same Billie Joe that forced you to do... actions?"

The vague choosing over her words made me uneasy, but I knew why she did it. She didn't want to make me uncomfortable around my brother, which isn't something she could do. She had me at her best interest, but it would have been better if she didn't.

"Wait," Mikey said, leaning forward slightly, his eyes locked onto me. "He 'forced' you to do things?"

"I told you about that," I murmured, a little confused on why he was asking about something he already knew.

He shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing together. "No, you never told me that he forced you to do anything. You just -"

"What did you think happened when he said shit like 'come back to bed'?" I clenched my jaw and looked away from him, not wanting to think about that part of my past again. It happened, it was over with. I shouldn't have to relive it.

Mikey stared at me for a couple more seconds before sitting back into the couch. Dr. Brown continued to write shorthand notes on the piece of paper, but looked up when she realized that my conversation with my brother had ended. "So, assuming that this is the same Billie Joe, you said that you kissed him, yes?"

"I kind of kissed him."

"How did you 'kind of kiss him'?" She asked, her pen ready to write down my response.

I took in a deep breath, preparing myself to say what I had already said at least three times prior to this visit. "You want the whole story?" She nodded graciously, just like how I expected her to. "Alright, so we were alone in the comic store, like everyone else had left and he wanted to talk to me alone since I had gone over the amount of time I was allowed to be on break."

"And you didn't think that being alone with him was a bad idea?"

I shook my head, regretting the movement once it happened since it caused the pain in my forehead to come back. "We've been broken up for two years - I didn't think anything of it."

"Okay," she said, jotting down my response. "Continue."

"He told me that I could talk to him if he ever needed something, and then he put his hand on my stomach." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mikey make a face, but he didn't say anything. It almost made me laugh, really. My little brother was still my little brother. He didn't want to hear everything about my personal life. "I bent my head down out of reflex, like a heat-of-the-moment sort of thing, and he kissed me. There isn't really anything else to it."

Dr. Brown looked at me with sympathetic eyes. "Did you feel threatened or worried during this kiss?"

"No," I said, "not at all."

"Did it lead into anything more... physical?"

Her choice of wording had really began to get on my nerves, but I had to deal with it if I wanted to get out of here as quick as possible. "Not really. I mean, I kissed him back, but I pushed him away after a few seconds. He even apologized for kissing me."

"So why did this incident cause you to drink?"

There was the real question. She just wanted to know why I was drinking again. Truth is, I never really stopped, I just eased off when things started to get better. The last time I drank heavily was the very last time I broke up with Cass. I knew that we weren't going to be together again, and even though I was the one who called it off, I was devastated. Alcohol was my safe haven. It gave me a warming buzz that nothing else could. Even if it did have an aftermath that was annoying as hell, it was one of the only things I knew I could depend on.

I blinked, not sure how to answer her question without her believing I was an alcoholic. "I started thinking about it too much, I guess. It wasn't like I wanted him, I just wanted to kiss someone, you know? I missed having someone with me and it made me realize that I wasn't going to have someone beside me for a while."

"Why do you not think that you're going to find someone for a while?" Dr. Brown was sitting on the edge of her chair, not in anticipation, but instead hoping that I answered her question with a response she wanted to hear.

I knew that she wanted me to say it was because I wasn't ready to start dating again, but that wasn't why I wasn't going to be with anyone soon. "I'm interested in someone, but they're not... they're not eighteen yet."

Mikey's head turned to look at me, his eyes wide. "Are you talking about that new guy? The one you want me to be friends with?"

I looked at him. "Yeah, but that's not why I want you to be friends with him, you know that, right?"

He nodded, "Uh-huh, and I knew you thought he was cute, but I didn't think you meant that you liked him."

Dr. Brown cleared her throat, interested in the conversation I was having with Mikey, but wishing that she knew more about the subject than what our vague dialog was telling her. "Who is this new guy that you're talking about?"

"His name's Frank." I said, turning to look at her, my headache slowly fading. I knew that if I had too many head movements, or if I stared into sunlight, that it would come rushing back, but I could tell that it was slowly dissipating. "He works at Super Comics - he's the new guy we got before Cass quit. The only reason he's working there is because he wants to buy a guitar, though, so I don't know how long he's staying."

"You said that you found him cute, though, correct?"

A sideways smile crossed my face, and I shrugged slightly. "I mean, yeah, he's pretty cute. But he's seventeen, so it's not like I can do anything right now."

"So you acknowledge the age restrictions."

"Of course." I looked at Mikey for a second, and then back to her. "He's a year younger than my brother, it'd just be weird to date someone that young, anyway."

Dr. Brown nodded, and then wrote down a couple words on the paper. I always wondered what she wrote when I was in session with her, but then again I knew it was just notes about me. "This new guy - Frank - does he have any interest in you?"

I kept my gaze on her, confused about her question. Did she really think that the seventeen year old, makeshift punk with shaggy hair liked me? It didn't seem likely, but there wasn't anything that said he didn't. "Maybe, I don't know. I've only known him for a day in total."

"So do you believe that you're infatuated with this boy?"

"Infatuated?" I shook my head and pressed myself farther into the back of the couch. "I like him, but I've only known him for a day, so I don't know much about him." I paused, thinking about how Frank might actually be a crush I have for a couple of weeks. He might quit, something might come up where he physically can't work at Super Comics, I might never see him again. "I don't want it to be an infatuation," I whispered, tilting my head downward to look at my lap. "but it might be, I don't know yet."

"How do you not know yet?" Dr. Brown asked, readying her pencil for my response.

I had forgotten how much I hated therapy. All she ever asked was questions. All she ever did was try to get me to open up and talk more. All she was trying to do was help me with problems I didn't even have. "He might not be around for long," I looked back up at her. "so I don't know how long I'm going to like him. If he keeps working here for a while, then I'm going to keep liking him, but if he quits next week then I'll forget about him in a few days." I shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "People come and go. I have a lot of infatuations, I guess, but I don't think he's going to be one."

She nodded thoughtfully, her hand moving as she wrote down notes about what I had said. "Well, I'm going to give you some advice." she sat the stack of papers down on the coffee table that separated us, and then looked up to look me in the eyes. "Be careful with this boy. Wait until he's eighteen to do anything, don't try to rush this if you actually want it to work out."

"I know I can't legally do anything with him," I said, withholding from rolling my eyes. "and I'm not going to until he's eighteen - if he's around that long." I might have lied. I knew that I wasn't going to wait to at least try and get to know him more. As of sexual, or romantic, acts? Well, those would wait. Maybe.

Dr. Brown shook her head, "No, Gerard. That's not what I meant. I mean, yes, don't try to do anything physical with him until he's of legal age, but also be careful in general. You know what it's like to be in an abusive relationship." She was talking about Billie, but I didn't like her wording. He wasn't the nicest boyfriend, but abusive? No, I didn't think he was abusive. Yes, he made me do things that I didn't like, he made me feel lesser as a person, but abusive? "And you know what a failing relationship feels like," Now she was talking about Cass. I was still good friends with her, but our relationship as a couple wasn't the strongest. "but this boy, Frank, he might not know what those kind of things feel like. You have to be the bigger person if you ever date him. You have to make sure that you're not abusing him, and he's not abusing you. You have to make sure that you voice your feelings to him if you date, to make sure that you're both aware if your relationship is failing or thriving."

"I don't need relationship counseling when I'm not even dating him yet."

"It's just a precaution, Gerard." She gave me a soft smile, "I want to make sure you know what to do if you end up in a relationship before I see you again." Standing, she stretched her arm out to me from across the table, and I was unsure if it was to help me stand or for me to shake. In decision, I stood, gesturing for Mikey to stand as well. I shook her hand and she continued to speak. "I hope to see you a lot sooner than two months from now."

I breathed out a laugh. "Yeah, we'll see what happens."

Dr. Brown let go of my hand and looked at Mikey. "If I have to, I'll call you to schedule an appointment."

He nodded, and I sidestepped, edging closer to Mikey to try and push us out the office door. "I hate to rush this, but we have somewhere to go." I looked at Dr. Brown and it seemed like she didn't believe me.

"It was good to see you today." She said politely, smiling as she watched me try to push my younger brother out of the room.

I smiled back to her, "Yeah, you too." That was a lie.

Mikey had began to walk out of the office once Dr. Brown had said goodbye to him. It frustrated me how polite he could be, but that just added onto his character. He never left without saying goodbye, never enters without saying hello. I wished that I could be more like him sometimes, but then again, I wouldn't know how to deal with people so easily.

My brother looked at me once we were out in the parking lot, "Where do we have to go?" He asked, talking about how I had previously told my therapist that we needed to leave because we had somewhere to be.

My fave scrunched up when the headache began to make its was back to my forehead. "I don't know." I said, my hand wrapping around the door handle to the car. "Anywhere but here."

_________________________________________

It was dawning on six-o'-clock before Mikey had driven us back to my apartment. I had told him that I was going to go to my room to try and sleep off my still apparent hangover, hoping that it would get him away from me for a while, but there was no luck. He said he was going to hang around, try to stay away from our parents as much as possible. I knew that when he got home he was going to be overloaded with questions on why he left the house late last night and didn't come back until the following evening, he was going to be asked if it had something to do with a girl or if it involved me, he was going to have to either tell them that I was back to drinking or lie his ass off. I knew that if he told them the truth then he would feel like he was betraying me, but if he lied, he would feel wrongly toward our parents. It made sense why he wanted to stay - he wanted to sorta out exactly what he was planning to say. That didn't mean that I wanted him to stay, however. Yes, I wanted him to get his story straight before he headed back home, but I just wanted to be alone. I didn't want to feel like he was watching me, even if there was a closed door separating us.

Mikey stayed, however. He stayed for nearly an hour after I had gone into my room and closed the door. I told him that I was going to be asleep, and that when he left he shouldn't wake me up, just leave a note and lock the door behind him. I didn't sleep. I stayed awake and drew the blinds, making my room as dark as possible even though the sun was going down. It reduced my headache, which I was grateful for, but I read comics to pass the time, straining my eyes when I tried to read the small print. I took breaks from reading every ten minutes, closing my eyes to try and settle my mind before reopening them and continuing. I was tired, I knew that I should sleep, but I couldn't. I couldn't sleep knowing that my brother was in my apartment hiding out from our parents so he wouldn't have to talk to them. I couldn't sleep without somebody next to me, at least I couldn't that night. I couldn't sleep with all of these thoughts on my mind. I wanted to sleep, but it couldn't come.

My phone sat on my bedside table, vibrating twice, indicating a text had come through. I closed the comic in my hands, stretching out my arm to grab the phone. I was expecting it to be from Mikey saying he had left, or maybe even from Cass asking how I was doing, but when I saw who the text was from, I couldn't help but blink in confusion.

It was from Frank.

I had told him before he left work that I would call him on Sunday to see if he still needed a ride to work. I hadn't expected him to text me first, especially before Sunday. I had completely forgotten that he had my number, but I remembered that seconds after he left I had texted him saying it was me, and that if he needed something over the weekend to contact me. I had meant if he needed something that helped him keep the job at Super Comics, but then again, I wouldn't deny him help if he needed something else.

I scanned over the text, trying to come up with a way to respond to "It's Frank. Something came up - can't work Monday. I'll have to get back to you Tuesday."

I wanted to know what had come up, what had happened today that made him text me a day before I would text him. Maybe it was a situation where it would be bad if I texted him, but wouldn't he have said not to text him back if that was the case? I didn't know what to say, so I sent him a reply saying "Do you need help?"

It seemed like the right thing to do. If something came up, he might need help. I might be able to help, even if I wasn't able to do much. He could always tell me no, it wasn't like he should feel obligated to tell me that he needed help. I had only known him for a day, not even that, so I was surprised he felt the need to text me either way.

I was about to pick my comic back up when my phone vibrated. "Pick me up in an hour? Wait until it gets darker. Pull up front with your headlights off, I'll be waiting" it was definitely the weirdest text I've ever gotten, but I wasn't going to deny him help. I texted back a quick "okay" and went back to reading my comic. It didn't take long to get to his house, only ten minutes, twenty with traffic, but I knew that there shouldn't be any traffic when he wanted me to pick him up.

I couldn't sleep then. I knew that if I fell asleep or took a nap then I wouldn't be awake in time to pick Frank up when he wanted. I would sleep until morning. I knew that something bad must have happened if he was willing to trust me, a guy he only met a day ago. I didn't expect him to tell me what it was, especially if it involved his family, but I wasn't going to deny him a place to stay if things were heated. Of course, if he stayed the night, he was going to have to stay on the couch, which wasn't all that comfortable, but it was better than the floor.

The small amount of light that had been filtering through my blinds had disappeared, the sun going down beneath the buildings of the city. It wasn't exactly night time, but just dark enough to where you couldn't see where you were going if there weren't streetlights. I put my comic down and looked at the clock; it read "7:15". I was going to be a little late on picking up Frank, and I hoped that what he wasn't in a large amount of trouble or frustration. With a heavy sigh, I stood up from the bed, all of the blood rushing to my head making me feel dizzy and hungover all over again. It cleared away within a matter of seconds, but the headache clung for as long as possible.

I walked over to my door and opened it, scanning my apartment for any signs of my little brother. It didn't look like he was still around, so I believed it was safe to head out on the streets to pick up Frank without being chastised. I was still a little hungover, only the aftermath of a headache still apparent, but Mikey would have yelled at me for driving no matter what state I was in, especially after the little episode we just went through.

I grabbed my keys off of the kitchen counter, hooking my fingers around the ring and wrapping my hand around it completely to make a fist. It still made no sense to me on why Frank was allowing me to pick him up. I didn't know a lot about him. I knew he wanted a guitar, so he probably played music and enjoyed it too, and I knew he dealt pot, so his family's secret business was probably a drug ring. At that point, I didn't know if I wanted him to trust me. Sure, he was cute, and I wouldn't mind getting to know him better, but I didn't want to get caught up in anything that could seriously kill me, or my family. He seemed like a cool guy - I wanted him to stay around unless he proved himself to be otherwise - so I wanted to help him if I could.

The whole time I was walking down the steps (because the elevator had been broken for months, not because I wanted to walk down stairs) of the small apartment complex, I had a bad feeling in my stomach. A part of me knew that whatever was happening with Frank wasn't good. I felt as if he needed me to pick him up, that if I didn't then something drastic would happen by morning. It wasn't a feeling I had often, but whenever I got it, the feeling was usually right. The only problem was that the feeling got worse once I stepped out into the main floor of the complex. The space wasn't much, just a small desk in the corner that served as the front desk, and a wall of mailboxes for those who wanted to receive mail. I had gotten used to the non-comforting feeling that the main floor gave off, but that day it made me incredibly uneasy. There was a woman standing at the mailboxes, her head bent down and her platinum blonde hair falling into her face as her fingers shuffled through mail in her hands. She looked up at me when I passed, but only gave me a sideways smile.

It had gotten darker, the nighttime clouds coming out to cover the disappearing sun. The sky was a range of dark pink and orange, but the sidewalks and streets were grey and uneasy on the eyes. The parking spaces were directly in front of the complex, much like how a business would be set up, but there were only eight spaces - four for the people who actually lived in the complex, and four for any visitors they might have. I walked forward to my car, the same one that Mikey had drove me to therapy in, and messed around with my keys until I found the right one. Normally my car was blocked in on either side, giving me difficulty when I tried to enter and exit the car, or even park and back out for that matter, but that evening both spaces surrounding me were empty. It was odd, yes, which gave me an even more unsettling feeling that I tried to push through.

I unlocked my car, opening the door and moving my body so I could step in. When I moved my head downward so I didn't hit it on the door frame, a hand touched my shoulder. Normally, I would have been confused on why someone touched me without saying "excuse me" or anything along those lines first, but that day was different. That day I knew that something wasn't right. The person who had touched my shoulder didn't just touch it - they grabbed it. The pressure on my shoulder was enough to send me crumbling to the ground, but I stood standing, turning my body when the pulled my shoulder back. I stared up at their face, their eyes dark but with a glint of amusement. Their face was stern and cold, but I couldn't get over the fact that it looked like they were about to do something enjoyable. I should have said something - I should have tried to squirm away from their grip - but I didn't. I didn't do anything. I was actually terrified. I didn't know who this person was. I didn't know why a very buff man was staring down at me, their hand still gripping my shoulder. I didn't know why he was there, or what he was expecting me to do, but it wasn't good, and that I knew for sure. The same look on his face was the look that I got in high school. It was the look that people had on their faces before they shoved me into lockers, before they pushed me down onto the ice and snow. It was the look I got before my head was bashed on bathroom sinks, and the exact same one that I was given before I was slammed into locker room walls and called names I'll never be able to forget. I couldn't speak up for myself then, and I definitely couldn't do it now.

My facial expression was one of pure fear, my eyes wide with shock and my mouth parted slightly as I anticipated what came next. Then it hit me. Literally. The man's right arm came up, his fist hitting me between my nose and mouth. I cried out in pain, my head whipping downward and I spit onto the ground, my saliva mixed with a deep red color when it hit the asphalt. My mouth became overwhelmed with the taste of blood, the liquid not only flowing from my mouth but from my nose as well. The man took advantaged of my crumpled position, using another fist to hit me in the stomach. I bent over and slumped down, his hand coming off of my shoulder to release me onto the ground. My knees were brought up to my chest, trying to protect my twisting stomach. I opened my mouth and spit, trying to cough out the blood building up around my tongue. The dark liquid dripped down my chin, spilling out onto the front of my shirt since I was sitting with my head bent down. A booted foot came down and kicked me in the side, my ribcage feeling as if it was about to explode. I coughed out in pain, trying to express my discomfort but only getting more kicks in return. His hand went back to my shoulder, turning my weak body so that I faced him. He brought his right arm up again and his fist contacted with my cheekbone, my head moving involuntarily and the side of my temple hit the metal car door frame. My vision went black around the edges and my headache came rushing back, only this time it was a thousand times worse. I went limp, the muscles in my body softening so I crumpled onto the ground completely. My left arm was in my car, pressed against the floorboard, my head resting on that arm. My legs were outstretched and my eyes were closed in an attempt to wish it all away. I hadn't felt that bad since high school. Nothing that bad had happened since high school.

The man leaned down and I felt a hand in my hair, his fingers making a fist so he forced my head upward to look at him. I let my eyes flutter open for a few seconds, thankful that I couldn't see the blood coming from my own face. He had an enthusiastic sneer on his lips, and I coughed, sputtering out blood from the back of my throat.

I wish that I could have comprehended what he said to me. I wish that I could have kept consciousness long enough to even have a hint of who he was and why he did this to me. I didn't know what I did wrong, or if I did anything wrong. I didn't know if he was going to take my wallet and steal my identity, if he was going to take my keys and drive away with my car, or if this was out of pure spite for me.

I wish that I could have comprehended the rest of his sentence, because all I heard the man say was, "Don't you ever -"

Then the door shut. The door to my car was closed, slammed shut on my upper body which was pressed against the metal. A shooting pain went across my left shoulder, as well as the side of my chest. My head moved when the door shut, making me slam it against the bottom of the car's seat. I would have called someone for help. I should have screamed out in pain, but I couldn't. I couldn't do anything. My life was in the hands of whoever found me, because even though I didn't know it at the time, I wasn't going to wake up on my own. I blacked out. I don't remember anything after that. I don't remember who found me or when the man left. I don't know how bad off I actual was. All I knew was that nobody was there to pick up Frank, and I wasn't ever going to know what happened that night that was so bad he trusted me, an almost complete stranger, to save him from it.


	6. Bad Decisions Caused By Unknown Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to start off by giving a huge thanks to my friend Forest for looking over this chapter and helping me with editing (as well as some ideas for the future). Also I'm very sorry for the lack of Frerard right now, but it's coming soon... you just wait.

I don't remember who found me. I don't remember how I got to the hospital. I don't remember how long I was out for, or all of what they did to me while I was out. I only know stories that people have told me, I only know what the nurses have talked to me about, I only know what Mikey has explained to me.

A concussion, they told me, and a serious one at that. I was in a coma for three days, but one of those days it was induced to relieve me from any remaining pain from the surgeries. I'm almost glad that I was in a coma, seeing how I would have refused anything surgery related if I was awake. I woke up to my whole family in my hospital room. Mikey was sitting in a chair by the door, looking at me with wide eyes. My mom was holding my hand - the one without the sling holding my arm close to my chest - and my dad had his arm around my mom's shoulders, trying to comfort her more than anyone else. I couldn't speak at first, My throat was dry so all that came out was a raspy groan. My mom immediately started crying when she saw I was awake, and Mikey stood when my dad looked over at him. My family cared about me, which was comforting, but the IV in my free arm was anything but. I rolled my head to the side, away from my parents, so I ended up staring at the blank wall.

A nurse came in when they realized that I was awake, and quickly shoved my family out into the waiting room, so they could examine me before letting me have visitors. It was a young man, probably got out of medical school within the past year. He was attractive, I had to admit; his dark skin contrasting with his bright green eyes. I would have tried to hit on him if I wasn't still in pain, my body sore and stiff - and if I could talk. He picked up a chart from the foot of my bed and flipped through a couple of pages, nodding as he gained information about my situation.

"My name's Charlie." he said, sitting the chart down, and coming to stand at the side of my bed. "I'll be your nurse, so if you need anything just push this button." he pointed to a red button next to my hand that was attached to my bed. I tried to speak, but nothing came out, only another raspy groan. "I wouldn't try to speak right now, at least not until you're feeling better. Do you know who found you after you were... mugged?"

I wanted to admit to him that I wasn't mugged, that I was simply beat up by a guy I didn't know, but I was advised not to speak, so I didn't. I shook my head in response.

"It was your little brother, Michael. He told us that you were wedged between your car door and the car itself. You were in pretty bad shape when the ambulance came to pick you up." Charlie walked to the foot of my bed and lifted the covers off of my legs, He raised the sheets up to my knees, but didn't go any further. "Nod if you can feel this." He pressed the tip of a ballpoint pen into my left big toe, and I nodded. Then, he did the same to my right, and I nodded. "Good." he said, bringing the blankets back down and coming to stand next to my arm in the sling. "that's very good. We wanted to make sure that nothing bad was going on with your legs that we couldn't see. When you came in, it was more of your upper body that was damaged, apparently whoever did this to you didn't care if your legs worked."

I didn't like how he used the word 'damaged', I had gotten beaten up pretty badly, but nothing was damaged. I still had all of my bits and pieces; unless my arm that was in a sling wasn't real. I couldn't remember why it was in a sling, or really what exactly happened to make it be in a sling. I couldn't remember all of the details of what had happened when that guy beat me up, or even if I had attempted to fight back. I doubted that I did, but it worried me more that I couldn't remember.

My eyes flickered down to look at the limb that was cradled close to my chest, but it was still my arm. It was my hand, it was my arm, so I shouldn't have to worry. I wanted to ask what they had done to me when I was comatose, but the nurse had advised me not to speak, so I wouldn't. Instead, I shifted my weight onto my left side, the side with the arm not in the sling, i let out a low moan when I realized that my whole body felt heavy. It was like I was moving through quicksand, like all of my weight was attempting to hold me down to this bed.

"Don't try to move by yourself." Charlie said, sliding his hand under my back to help guide me into a sitting position. He pressed a button on the side of the bed that let me sit up straighter, but it didn't help anyway. I wanted to sleep, I wanted to get this heavy feeling away from me, but I knew that if I just woke up from a coma, then they probably wouldn't let me go to sleep. Charlie brought his hand away from me and sat on the side of the hospital bed, looking at me with sympathetic eyes. "I'm surprised you pulled through this so quickly. Most of us - your other nurses, didn't think that you would come out of comatose for another half week. You were in bad shape when you got here, blacked out, with blood smeared all over your face and shirt." He paused and stood up from the bed, but continued to look at me. I wish I knew why I was covered in blood. I knew I was beaten up, and I knew that when the guy punched me that my nose started to bleed a little, but I didn't remember enough blood to cover my face and shirt. "Three broken ribs, a broken nose, a hairline fracture in your right arm, and not to mention, how your concussion lead to a coma."

I tried to swallow, but my throat was incredibly dry. I coughed a couple of times, but gave up and rested my head against the pillow underneath it. My eyes were fixed on the ceiling, my hair plastered against the sides of my face from sweat. Charlie had moved away from me when I looked up at the ceiling, and I heard a sink running on the other side of the room. He appeared next to me with a small plastic cup in his hand, but sat down next to me on the bed again, instead of trusting me to hold the cup myself.

"Here," he said softly, I looked back down and saw the cup edging toward my mouth. He pressed the rim against my lips and and I opened my mouth, allowing myself to swallow the liquid. I had expected some sort of medication, but it had only been water, which my throat was very thankful for. When I had finished the water in the cup, Charlie set it down on the table next to the bed. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand pressed against the thin green hospital blanket that covered my lower body. If I moved my right leg out to the edge of the bed, his hand would be grazing my thigh through the sheet. I would have done it, seeing how he probably wouldn't make a reflex of removing his hand from the bed and away from me, but I was too tired. It felt as if I was still hungover, except this time my entire upper body was effected in full. Charlie took a deep breath and smiled softly. "You know, you worry a lot of people."

That was the line, I couldn't handle him chastising me about making better decisions. I knew that he was a nurse, that it was his job to tell me to be a little safer, but I had gotten sick of hearing people telling me that everything I did was wrong. Everything I did worried someone, even if it was the most innocent act. I didn't know how much Charlie knew about my life - I didn't know how much personal information the hospital had on me. I wouldn't be surprised if he knew I broke my wrist in my sophomore year of high school, or that my parents brought me into the hospital after they found me lying in my own vomit after binge drinking. I wouldn't be surprised if he knew I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder, or saw the fading cuts down my legs, he probably thought I was suicidal. He had to know all of this if he knew I worried people. People always worried about me, I hated it. They didn't have to worry about me, There was nothing wrong that I did that they had to worry about.

Charlie continued to speak after he realized I wasn't going to try to respond, or even move my head in agreement. "Your little brother worries a lot about you, your parents too. All three of them were a nervous wreck the entire time you were out." He stood up from the bed and began to walk towards the door, but turned around before he opened it. "Does anything hurt by the way?" I gave him a small shrug. "Your ribs should feel a little sore, your arm should too, Your nose is the only thing that shouldn't hurt that much. You might experience amnesia, but it's temporary, I promise." Amnesia made sense, At least I didn't feel dumb anymore for not remembering exactly what had happened. "If anything gets too much to handle, then press the red button on the side of your bed and a nurse will come in and give you some morphine. Are you up to seeing visitors?"

I knew that he meant my family when he said visitors, so I nodded. I didn't want to see them, but I knew I had to. I had caused them enough trouble just by being in the hospital, so the least I could do was have them talk to me, if that's what they wanted. When Charlie left, Mikey pushed himself into into the room just seconds after. He looked confused, or in discomfort. I couldn't really tell.

"Hey, man." he said, coming to stand by my left side to sit next to my arm that wasn't in the sling. "The 'rents are in the cafeteria getting some dinner. You know the food here is absolute shit, right? Dad can't stand it but he refuses to leave or go home in case something bad happens with you." his words made me smile softly. I didn't realize how long it had been since I saw our parents. I saw Mikey nearly every week, but our parents I hadn't seen in months. "You know mom's making me go to school still? I kept trying to pull the 'my-brother-could-be-dying' card but she didn't buy it. All she would tell me was that her son could be dying and I needed to shut up and go to school." he paused, obviously expecting me to speak, but I didn't.

I wanted to respond to him but I couldn't. I was too tired, too unenthusiastic. I didn't even want to be awake, but I was going to try to speak to him. Even if it came out inaudible or unable to understand, he would probably get the hint that I couldn't talk. "I'm sorry you found me." My voice was quiet and raspy, and I knew that he probably didn't understand what I said.

Mikey blinked at me in confusion, but shook his head. "Why? The doctors said that you would probably have died if I didn't find you when I did. You were dehydrated from drinking, and you had broken bones, and there was blood everywhere, and it was sick dude, but not the good kind of sick." That made me smile again. It wasn't a smile with teeth, but rather one where only the corner of my lips were curled. I looked at him with sad eyes, and he reciprocated the look. The only difference was that he looked like he had a reason to be upset. I was just upset because I was actually here. I was stuck at the hospital when I could be at home, or at work.

"Are you okay?" My voice was still quiet, still hard to understand. I only asked because he looked like he was about to break down and cry. I was used to seeing Mikey emotional, and he was used to seeing me in the same way. We both knew how to deal with the other when we were upset, I just hoped that I wouldn't have to comfort him right then.

He didn't shake his head, or nod, but I could tell that he wasn't alright. He let his head hang downward so he was looking at his lap. His shoulders shook softly and I would have grabbed him and brought him into a hug if I wasn't still recovering from multiple broken bones. "I thought you were going to die." he said through sniffles, his shoulders still shaking. "I thought you were dead. I-I... I didn't know what to do - you were covered in blood and - and I couldn't...." Mikey stopped talking, his words becoming choppy and breathless as he worked himself up more.

I stretched my free arm out to him and rested it on his knee - the only part of him that I could actually reach. I wished that I could have seen how bad off I was when he found me. I wished I could have remembered how bad I felt. I wanted to know what he had to go through, what he saw and what made him think that I was dead. There must have been a lot of blood - seeing how I was most likely bleeding from other places I had no idea about. I was sorry that he was the one that found me. I wanted to know why the guy beat me up, why I was the one he wanted to leave for dead. I didn't know what I did wrong, but I knew for sure that Mikey shouldn't have been the one to find me. I knew that he was going to be terrified for my life these next few weeks. I didn't want him to worry. I was recovering. I was fine.

Mikey looked up at me when he felt my hand on his knee. His eyes were watery behind his glasses, but no tears had fallen. He took in a deep, shaky breath, and then spoke as softly as he could."Someone came to see you yesterday." I furrowed my eyebrows together in confusion and he continued. "I think it was that Frank kid, the one that you like, but he didn't really say anything."

I brought my hand away from him and looked down, my eyes fixed on my arm that was in the sling. Why had Frank come to visit? It didn't make any sense. I had only known him for a day. The only reason that I could think of was because he thought something bad had happened - or he knew something bad had happened - when I didn't pick him up that night. "What's he look like?" I asked, raising my head to look back up at my brother.

Mikey brought his hand up to his eyes to slip his fingers under his glasses, rubbing the tears away from the corners. He sniffed once before speaking. "Brown hair, really greasy too. Looked like he hadn't showered in like a week. He's pretty short. I don't know, man, he was wearing a black shirt that had moths holes all over it."

I hastily bit my lip, knowing that it was Frank. Who else was described like that? I wanted to know why he was there, what he was planning on saying to me if I wasn't comatose, but Mikey had said that he didn't say much, so I wasn't going to ask. I nodded, however, silently saying that the boy was in fact Frank. "So is he cute?" I asked, piercing my lips together to hold back a smile. I knew that my brother wasn't going to appreciate my comment, but it had to be said.

"I guess so. I'm not like you, though. I'm not gay, so I don't really have a say in that."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not gay, either."

He waved his hand, dismissing my statement. "Okay, fine, whatever. I'm not bi, so I don't really have a say in if he's cute or not.

"How are you not bi?" I asked a playful smirk curling onto my lips. "You dated Pete, didn't you?"

Mikey shook his head. "I did not date Pete." he glared at me and I knew that he had grown tired of my comments about him and the boy who was one year older. They had been friends the previous year, but once Pete graduated from high school, they hadn't really spoken since.

"Say what you want, but I know something happened." My throat was still dry, making my voice sound raw and filled with emotion. It was getting better, and I knew that if I drank a few more cups of water that it would be healed back to normal.

"Nothing happened!" he exclaimed, standing up and taking a step away from the bed. "I don't want to get into this right now, Gee. You just woke up from a coma, so I don't know how you're already trying to pry into the relationships that I've had." he paused, staring at me, but then caught onto what he had said. "I meant didn't have. Didn't have! I didn't date him, I swear to God."

A laugh bubbled up in my chest, but I quickly bit it down. The movement of my chest caused my ribs to hurt, forcing me to immediately stop laughing and instead look up at the ceiling in pain. I didn't verbally express my emotions, but I bit down hard on my lips, trying not to let out a string of curse words. When I had managed to get the pain under control, I moved my head back down to look at Mikey, my eyes flickering over to the door when it opened. My mom walked in first, and my dad followed closely behind.

"Gerard," she greeted me, going to the side of the bed that Mikey wasn't on. "How are you feeling? Are you alright?"

Mikey looked over at her, shaking his head as he sat back down onto the side of the bed."Does he look alright?"

Our mom glared at him, her expression telling me that this was what she had to deal with the three days I was out. "Stop it." she hissed under her breath. I knew that I probably wasn't supposed to hear it, but I could understand now why she was so uptight when he asked to stay home from school when I was in the hospital. Then again, she was most likely stressed, and my little brother's comments probably didn't help her any. She turned back to face me, her eyes filled with sorrow. "How are you feeling? Are you comfortable?"

I nodded softly. "Yeah, I'm fine." I sat up slowly, trying to get in a better position, but the painful feeling in my rib cage came back, so I gave up and settled back down into the spot I was previously in. "My ribs hurt a lot. That's about it, though." I decided to not tell my family about my slight memory loss. It would be better if they didn't worry more than they already were.

"I'm not surprised." My dad spoke up, standing behind Mikey with a hand on his shoulder. A moral support, I guess, but it seemed like the hand on his shoulder was making Mikey want to cry even more. "Three broken ribs, a broken nose, and a broken arm - which they said you didn't need a cast for, by the way. Just take it easy with that arm in the sling and they said you would be fine."

I took a moment to look at my family, to look at the people who cared enough about me to take off from their work, from their schooling, in order to be with me. I appreciated them, yes, but not nearly as much as I knew I should. When I was younger, I took them all for granted. I didn't realize that I wouldn't be at home forever, that I would have to be out on my own. I used to push my parents away whenever they tried to comfort me, thinking that I was grown when I was barely halfway through my teenage years. At the time, I talked to Mikey a lot, and I had a decent relationship with my parents, but my connection to all three of them wasn't nearly as strong as it should have been. I didn't know that I was going to depend on my brother to keep me sane, or that my parents would have to help me pay my bills, but it happened, and I didn't know what to do with myself. Laying there in that hospital bed made me realize that everything was wrong. I realized that I shouldn't have to depend on all these people. They had their own lives, their own things to do, and the last thing that they needed to worry about was their anxious, potential alcoholic son and brother.

I looked at my mom, who I could tell was trying desperately to keep her hands off of me. "We were so worried for you." she said, stretching out a hand so her palm cupped my face. It was a gesture I normally would have squirmed away from, but there wasn't really a way for me to get away from the touch, so I let it slide. "I thought I was going to lose you. I thought I was going to lose my baby boy."

"Mom," I whispered, turning my head away from her.

"What?" her hand retracted from me. "We didn't even get a call from your brother, you know." She was referring to Mikey. How he had called an ambulance and not our own parents, I had no idea. He might have been more level headed than we all thought. Our parents couldn't have done anything except call and ambulance, anyway. "We had gotten a call from the hospital and we thought something had happened to Mikey, since he headed off to your apartment thirty minutes before we got the call. When I heard that something happened to you, though? Gerard, we thought you were dead."

Mikey turned his head to look at her, "You thought he was dead before you even saw him?" His words really made me want to know how bad off I had been.

She nodded softly, looking at her youngest son with sad eyes. "He's been through so much - but we've never gotten a call from a hospital." she looked back to me. "Between your drinking and your anxiety, and everything else that you've gone through in the past," she was talking about my depression, as well as my suicidal tendencies. Luckily she didn't know anything about my relationship with Billie other than we went out for a couple years. I couldn't even begin to imagine what she would think about me if she knew I continued to date someone who didn't take pride in dating me. I knew that there was something else he did. There was something else that happened to me that I couldn't remember. I hated not knowing what it was, because I knew it was awful, I just couldn't remember. "we didn't have anything left to think. We thought you did something that we couldn't fix."

"You thought I killed myself?" I couldn't imagine all that I put my parents through to make them believe that. Sure, I had been suicidal in the past - hell, I still was suicidal from time to time - but I never thought that I was so bad off that my parents would believe I could do it at any moment.

My dad took his hand off of Mikey's shoulder and spoke up. "Gerard, you shouldn't get worked up over that. We had full reason to worry about you."

"But you automatically thought I killed myself." My eyes flicked from my dad to my mom, both of their faces still drowned with worry. "You could have thought anything and that's the first thing you think I did?"

My mom shook her head. "No, baby, no." her voice was soft, almost as if she was trying to comfort me, like she was trying to keep me from getting stuck on the topic. "I don't want to talk about this right now. Why don't we wait until you're discharged from the hospital? You probably won't be as irritable then."

"Irritable?" I wanted my parents out of the room. I loved them, I needed them, but I couldn't stand them at the time. I wanted my brother to stay so I had at least someone to comfort me, but I didn't know how to say that. I didn't know how to say that I wanted my brother to stay but I wanted my parents out. They were so upset about me, upset that I had gotten into a fight of some sorts, upset that they would have to help me pay the hospital bills, upset that I wasn't dead. "Just... Just give me a minute alone, alright? I-I want to be - I want just a minute."

My mom reached forward to touch my face again and nodded, stepping away from the bed to turn towards the door. When she opened it, my dad quickly followed. Mikey stood there, however, staring at me for a couple seconds, taking the sight of me in. I wanted him to stay. I didn't want to be alone. I wanted to reach out and grab onto his arm, I wanted to tell him to stay next to me so I didn't get my mind wrapped up on the pain in my side - the pain of my face and head and arm. I wanted him to talk to me and distract me.

I wanted to see Frank.

I didn't know why I did. I hadn't even known the boy for that long, I just wanted to see him. Knowing that he had visited me while I was in a coma wasn't making it any better, because now I wanted to know what he was going to say to me if I had been awake. I wanted to know how he found out about me - or if his family had anything to do with what had happened to me. I wanted to know who else knew that I had been in the hospital for the past three days. I wanted to know if Cass knew, if she even cared. I wanted to know who all knew what had happened to me, who all had came to visit, and if anyone knew why I was the person to have a near-death experience.

The door to the hospital room was open slightly, unclosed from when my dad walked out, leaving it as an invite for Mikey to follow. My brother gave me a small smile but didn't say anything as he turned toward the door. He stopped at the foot of the bed, however, staring at the person who had walked in before he could get out. Mikey turned around to face me, his expression confused and worried. I looked over to who was walking toward me, expecting a nurse or doctor, but that's now who I saw.

It was Billie Joe.

He looked like he was in a rush, like he had ran ten blocks in order to reach my room in the hospital. I wanted to know why he was so determined to see me. After all, we hadn't been anything exclusive for two years, and even the kiss we shared a few days prior didn't give him leeway to feel the need to be next to me in the hospital. I didn't even really want him there, but he was a friend, he was my boss, and even though he was my exboyfriend, that didn't mean I had the right to be a dick to him.

Mikey moved his head to look at Billie, who was now standing at the foot of the bed opposite of my brother, and then back to me, "Do you want me to stay with you while he's here?"

Billie looked at him with displeasure, almost as if he was offended by his comment. I had a feeling that Mikey knew what I couldn't remember. I had a feeling that he knew what had happened between Billie Joe and me, that my brother knew the big event that occurred that I couldn't remember. I wanted to ask him what it was, I wanted to ask either of them what it was, but it couldn't have been that bad, could it?

I shook my head in response to Mikey. "No, I'll be fine." I said and he stared at Billie, giving him an icy look before walking toward the door and out into the hallways.

I couldn't remember what kind of history the two had between them, or if it involved me. It probably did involve me, seeing how Mikey continuously declared that he was straight, and he wouldn't pass off a massive hint like that to me that he wasn't. That wasn't how he was. We both had secrets from one another, but not things like that. We never hid anything like that.

Billie walked up from the foot of the bed up to my right side. He sat down on the edge of the bed, since there was more than enough room with my arm being locked up in the sling. It didn't feel right to have him so close to me. It was a gut feeling, or perhaps left over emotions from when he kissed me, but I wasn't sure if I liked it. My family had sat next to me on the bed, but that was different. They were my family, he wasn't. He was... he was my exboyfriend who I had a past with that I couldn't fully remember. He treated me like I wasn't good enough for him, and did something to me that was no longer apparent in my memories. The nurse said that it would blow over, that the amnesia would go away, but I wasn't sure if I was going to want to remember what he had done to me.

"Are you alright? Cass told me what happened to you." His eyes were locked on mine, unwavering for even a second. It was enticing, his eyes were, and I had forgotten how much he could win me over with a single glance. That was how he got me to agree with most of what went on when we were dating. He would give me the most apologetic look, something that said he was sorry for everything but that he had to be right about the topic at hand. I was never able to say that he was wrong. I wasn't afraid of him, I just didn't want to lose our relationship. I didn't want to lose the first person who had ever said they loved me.

My mouth parted slightly as I looked at him, his green eyes even brighter under the fluorescent lightening than they would be anywhere else. "I-I'm okay." I said, raising my shoulders to shrug slightly. "How did Cass know about me?"

I wouldn't have been surprised if Mikey had called her. My brother knew that I was still friends with her, so it would have made sense for him to call her and tell her that I was in the hospital.

Billie hesitated to speak, thinking over his words carefully before saying them. "Frank actually told her, that new kid at Super Comics."

"Frank? How did...." I realized that the kid had visited me while I was comatose, and if he told Cass that I was in the hospital, than he would have had to find out from someone that I was there. It made me believe that his family really did have something to do with my poor condition, and it was a strong assumption that I was sticking to unless I was proved wrong. "It doesn't matter," I brushed my own question off quickly, "Why are you here?"

"Can I not see you after you've been dead for three days?"

"I haven't been dead." I muttered, wishing that he wasn't there, or that I actually was dead.

Even if he didn't try to do it, he made me feel lesser. I knew that he didn't mean anything by the comment, but it made me feel ungrateful. He made me feel like I should have been happy that he was there, and maybe I should have been, but I wasn't. He made it seem like there was nothing I could say that was right, that if I even looked at him in the wrong way it would set him off. I hated feeling that way around people, and it seemed like he was the only one I felt that way around.

Billie leaned back on the bed, edging himself a couple inches away from me. "Do you not want me to be here?" his voice was careful. He didn't want to set me off, and I knew he didn't because he had taken on the same tone from when we were dating. His voice was always smooth and soft, like he thought I was fragile. It was funny, really, how he didn't want me to start yelling, but if he was mad he had full right to yell, and I couldn't say anything about it.

As for him being at the hospital, for him being next to me? I didn't know what to say. I was thankful that he wanted to check up on me, especially after he heard that I was in bad condition, but I didn't know if I wanted him or not. Past emotions from when we were dating were still lodged in my brain, only the biggest memory being forgotten temporarily. With me not exactly knowing what he had done to me, I was hesitant on letting him stay this close to me. I wished that I had said yes to Mikey when he asked if I wanted him to stay. A part of me knew that I had told my brother what had happened between Billie and me. A part of me knew that I shouldn't have been alone with my ex - but I was, and I didn't know how to deal with the situation at hand on my own.

I shrugged, scrunching up my face slightly to show my uncertainty. "I don't know." I murmured, tilting my head up to look him in the eyes. "It's just weird, I guess."

"Look, if you don't want me here, that's all you have to say, I'll -"

"No," I stated, shaking my head. "I don't want you to leave, I just... I just want things to be normal between us.

"I can be normal." Billie said, inching closer to me on the bed.

There was a feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it was all I could focus on. Whether it be my instincts telling me that this guy wasn't good news, or my emotions taking their own course and making me have feelings for him again, I didn't like it. It was a heavy feeling, a knot that twisted my stomach so tightly that I got butterflies. I hated being confused. I hated not knowing what emotion I was feeling. I didn't know if I was afraid or in love, and that was what confused me the most. I looked down to my arm, the pitiful damaged one in the sling, and when I looked up, my eyes were locked with his. The feeling in my stomach grew larger, and I immediately knew that I wasn't afraid of him. I was in love again. I had fallen in love again with the man that had emotionally beaten me down for two years.

His eyes were bright, a shimmering green that I had forgotten I loved. They were captivating; round and wide. If I wasn't forced to lay in the position I was (seeing how if I moved, then my ribs would feel like they were breaking apart), then I would have leaned forward and kissed him. Perhaps it was a good thing that I couldn't exactly move, because I vaguely knew that if I had kissed him then it would have gone south. I would have hated myself for doing it all over again, for giving myself the opportunity to be pushed around one more time. His love was a gateway to everything horrible, but it was that horrible love that I felt so desperate to have.

I moved my right leg closer to his hand, his fingertips brushing my thigh through the blanket. It was what I had intended to do with my nurse, Charlie, but decided against it. A shiver ran through my body, but I concealed the action, trying to not show how much the touch effected me. Billie noticed the movement of my leg, his eyes flickering down to look at where our bodies were slightly touching. I knew that he realized I didn't do it on accident. I hadn't moved any other part of my body - only my leg. I wanted to be close to him, to touch him, even though I knew it wasn't going to be healthy for me. Billie looked at me and I bit my lip, a habit that I had taken up in my early teenage years, and a habit I couldn't seem to break. I released my lower lip and opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

I had previously said that I wanted things to be normal between us; he had said that he could be normal. Maybe that was our normal. Maybe we couldn't be anything more than a relationship that fell apart only to come back together for a couple of nights. This had to be what he wanted. He did kiss me a few days ago, before I was beaten up, before all of this went south, so I still had to mean something to him. It wasn't like I was inferior in his eyes, right? He couldn't still have the mindset. We had both grown as people. It had been two years since we broke up. I learned things that I didn't know when I was twenty. I learned things about myself and the surrounding world, and I had to be strong enough to handle a relationship with him again. I had to be. It was what I wanted, so I had to be.

Billie moved his hand so it was pressed against against my mid-thigh, and when I didn't shy away from him, he took it as an invite to advance. He leaned forward, his body coming closer as his head bent slightly to press his lips against mine. I let my eyes close as I brought my head forward, pressing into the kiss. The touch was soft at first, innocent and sweet, and it reminded me that he wasn't all bad.

Billie Joe was a nice guy, he was just misunderstood. He did things that most people couldn't forgive, did things that I couldn't forgive but also couldn't remember at the time, but overall he was compassionate and caring. I had told myself that I could do this. I could handle being with him again. I didn't know that I was going to remember what he did to me all those years ago. I didn't know that I was going to regret lying here in the hospital bed, letting him move his hand across my thigh. I didn't know that anything was going to go wrong. All I knew at the time was that I loved him again, and I wanted as much of him as I could possibly get.

I opened my mouth, his tongue meeting mine as we both fought for more of each other. I would have pulled him closer to me, pulled him more onto the bed, except the sling restricted me from really moving my right arm, and my left arm was being occupied by an IV. So, I waited for him to make a move. I missed having him so close. I never realized how unsatisfied I had been those two years without him. Sure, I had pushed him away a few days prior when he kissed me, but it was different then. I actually remembered what he had done to me when that happened. I remembered more than him ignoring me, more than him treating me like I wasn't a person in our relationship. When I couldn't remember the reason why I broke up with him, I had to give thanks to the temporary amnesia. I didn't want to remember what he did to me. If I could continue to have moments like this, mindless kisses and touches, then I didn't want to remember what had happened. I wanted this; I wanted bliss.

I broke our kiss, pulling away to catch my breath. Our faces were close, our noses touching as we looked at one another with desperate, hungry eyes. I wished that I wasn't being kept captive by the hospital. I wanted to leave with my hands clinging to Billie's arm. He pressed his lips back against mine, almost as if he read my mind and saw its desperation. I was gracious of his actions, and let out a soft moan in response. The noise was enough to push him forward, and his hand slid up my thigh. Through the thin blanket covering me I felt his hand brush between my legs, a feeling I had yet to get used to again. It sent a shiver through my body, and this time I didn't conceal it. I used the jolting action of my body as a reason to pull away from our kiss, my left hand going to his, pulling it away from my body with hesitation.

"Are you alright?" He asked me, pulling his hand away from mine as he sat up straight.

The second that he leaned away from me, I wanted to pull him back, but I resisted. Instead, I nodded to him. "Yeah, I'm fine." my eyes flickered towards the door, "I just don't want to do anything when my family could walk in."

A smirk appeared on his face and he nodded. "That's reasonable." Billie paused, looking down at me with a curious gaze. I could tell that he wanted something, but it wasn't apparent of what he wanted. He leaned a little closer to me, his chest coming forward, but not close enough for us to do anything. "It looks like you're just going to have to hurry up and get better then. That way we can get you out of here and into my apartment."

I felt my face go hot, and I knew immediately that I was blushing. I bent my head down towards my chest to try and hide the added color to my skin, my hair falling into my eyes. Billie reached out to tuck the falling strands behind my ear, his hand grazing my face as he did so. I looked up, his fingers still pressed against my cheek, and I knew that this was what I wanted. It didn't matter what had happened between us, or what he did to me that I couldn't remember. This was now, that was then, and I sure as hell wanted more of the present than of the past.

Sent from my iPhone

On Oct 16, 2015, at 6:49 PM, Whisper Daniel wrote:

Bad Decisions Caused By Unknown Memories

 

I don't remember who found me. I don't remember how I got to the hospital. I don't remember how long I was out for or what all they did to me while I was out. I only know stories that people have told me. I only know what the nurses have talked to me about. I only know what Mikey has explained to me.

A concussion, they told me, and a serious one at that. I was in a coma for three days, but one of those days it was induced to relieve me from any remaining pain from the surgeries. I'm almost glad that I was in a coma, seeing how I would have refused anything surgery related if I was awake. I woke up to my whole family in my hospital room. Mikey was sitting in a chair by the door, looking at me with wide eyes. My mom was holding my hand - the one without the sling holding my arm close to my chest - and my dad had his arm around my mom's shoulders, trying to comfort her more than anyone else. I couldn't speak at first. My throat was dry so all that came out was a raspy groan. My mom immediately started crying when she saw I was awake, and Mikey stood when my dad looked over at him. My family cared about me, which was comforting, but the IV in my free arm was anything but. I rolled my head to the side, away from my parents, so I stared at the blank wall.

A nurse came in when they realized that I was awake, and quickly shoved my family out into the waiting room so they could examine me before letting me have visitors. It was a young man, probably getting out of medical school within the past year. He was attractive, I had to admit; his dark skin contracting with his bright green eyes. I would have tried to hit on him if I wasn't still in pain, my body sore and stiff - and if I could talk. He picked up a chart from the foot of my bed and flipped through a couple of pages, nodding as he gained information about my situation.

"My name's Charlie." he said, sitting the chart down and coming to stand at the side of my bed. "I'll be your nurse, so if you need anything just push this button." he pointed to a red button next to my hand that was attached to my bed. I tried to speak, but nothing came out, only another raspy groan. "I wouldn't try to speak right now, at least not until you're feeling better. Do you know who found you after you were... mugged?"

I wanted to admit to him that I wasn't mugged, that I was simply beat up by a guy I didn't know, but I was advised not to speak, so I didn't. I shook my head in response.

"It was your little brother, Michael. He told us that you were wedged between your car door and the car itself. You were in pretty bad shape when the ambulance came to pick you up." Charlie walked to the foot of my bed and lifted the covers off of my legs. He raised the sheets up to my knees, but didn't go any further. "Nod if you can feel this." He pressed the tip of a ballpoint pen into my left big toe, and I nodded. Then, he did the same to my right, and I nodded. "Good," he said, bringing the blankets back down and coming to stand next to my arm in the sling. "that's very good. We wanted to make sure that nothing bad was going on with your legs that we couldn't see. When you came in, it was more of your upper body that was damaged - apparently whoever did this to you didn't care if your legs worked."

I didn't like how he used the word 'damaged'. I had gotten beaten up pretty badly, but nothing was damaged. I still had all of my bits and pieces; unless my arm that was in a sling wasn't real. I couldn't remember why it was in a sling, or really what exactly happened to make it be in a sling. I couldn't remember all of the details of what had happened when that guy beat me up, or even if I had attempted to fight back. I doubted that I did, but it worried me more that I couldn't remember.

My eyes flickered down to look at the limb that was cradled close to my chest, but it was still my arm. It was my hand, it was my arm, so I shouldn't have to worry. I wanted to ask what they had done to me when I was comatose, but the nurse had advised me not to speak, so I wouldn't. Instead, I shifted my weight onto my left side, the side with the arm not in the sling, and let out a low moan when I realized that my whole body felt heavy. It was like I was moving through quicksand, like all of my weight was attempting to hold me down to this bed.

"Don't try to move by yourself." Charlie said, sliding his hand under my back to help guide me into a sitting position. He pressed a button on the side of the bed that let me sit up straighter, but it didn't help anyway. I wanted to sleep, I wanted to get this heavy feeling away from me, but I knew that if I just woke up from a coma then they probably wouldn't let me go to sleep. Charlie brought his hand away from me and sat on the side of the hospital bed, looking at me with sympathetic eyes. "I'm surprised you pulled through this so quickly. Most of us - your other nurses - didn't think that you would come out of comatose for another half week. You were in bad shape when you got here; blacked out with blood smeared all over your face and shirt." He paused and stood up from the bed, but continued to look at me. I wish I knew why I was covered in blood. I knew I was beaten up, and I knew that when the guy punched me that my nose started to bleed a little, but I didn't remember enough blood to cover my face and shirt. "Three broken ribs, a broken nose, a hairline fracture in your right arm, and not to mention how your concussion lead to a coma."

I tried to swallow, but my throat was incredibly dry. I coughed a couple of times, but gave up and rested my head against the pillow underneath it. My eyes were fixed on the ceiling, my hair plastered against the sides of my face from sweat. Charlie had moved away from me when I looked up at the ceiling, and I heard a sink running on the other side of the room. He appeared next to me with a small plastic cup in his hand, but sat down next to me on the bed again instead of trusting me to hold the cup myself.

"Here," he said softly. I looked back down and saw the cup edging toward my mouth. He pressed the rim against my lips and and I opened my mouth, allowing myself to swallow the liquid. I had expected some sort of medication, but it had only been water, which my throat was very thankful for. When I had finished the water in the cup, Charlie set it down on the table next to the bed. He was still sitting on the side of the bed, his hand pressed against the thin, green hospital blanket that covered my lower body. If I moved my right leg out to the edge of the bed, his hand would be grazing my thigh through the sheet. I would have done it, seeing how he probably wouldn't make a reflex of removing his hand from the bed and away from me, but I was too tired. It felt as if I was still hungover, except this time my entire upper body was effected in full. Charlie took a deep breath and smiled softly. "You know you worry a lot of people."

That was the line. I couldn't handle him chastising me about making better decisions. I knew that he was a nurse, that it was his job to tell me to be a little safer, but I had gotten sick of hearing people telling me that everything I did was wrong. Everything I did worried someone, even if it was the most innocent act. I didn't know how much Charlie knew about my life - I didn't know how much personal information the hospital had on me. I wouldn't be surprised if he knew I broke my wrist in my sophomore year of high school, or that my parents brought me into the hospital after they found me lying in my own vomit after binge drinking. I wouldn't be surprised if he knew I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder, or saw the fading cuts down my legs and thought I was suicidal. He had to know all of this if he knew I worried people. People always worried about me, and I hated it. They didn't have to worry about me. There was nothing wrong that I did that they had to worry about.

Charlie continued to speak after he realized I wasn't going to try to respond, or even move my head in agreement. "Your little brother worries a lot about you - your parents too. All three of them were a nervous wreck the entire time you were out." He stood up from the bed and began to walk towards the door, but turned around before he opened it. "Does anything hurt by the way?" I gave him a small shrug. "Your ribs should feel a little sore, your arm should too. Your nose is the only thing that shouldn't hurt that much. You might experience amnesia, but it's temporary, I promise." Amnesia made sense. At least I didn't feel dumb anymore for not remembering exactly what had happened. "If anything gets too much to handle, then press the blue button on the side of your bed and a nurse will come in and give you some morphine. Are you up to seeing visitors?"

I knew that he meant my family when he said visitors, so I nodded. I didn't want to see them, but I knew I had to. I had caused them enough trouble just by being in the hospital, so the least I could do was have them talk to me if that's what they wanted. When Charlie left, Mikey pushed himself into into the room just seconds after. He looked confused, or in discomfort. I couldn't really tell.

"Hey, man." he said, coming to stand by my left side to sit next to my arm that wasn't in the sling. "The 'rents are in the cafeteria getting some dinner. You know the food here is absolute shit, right? Dad can't stand it, but he refuses to leave or go home in case something bad happens with you." his words made me smile softly. I didn't realize how long it had been since I saw our parents, I saw Mikey nearly every week, but our parents I hadn't seen in months. "You know mom's making me go to school still? I kept trying to pull the 'my-brother-could-be-dying' card but she didn't buy it, All she would tell me was that her son could be dying and I needed to shut up and go to school." he paused, obviously expecting me to speak, but I didn't.

I wanted to respond to him, but I couldn't. I was too tired, too unenthusiastic. I didn't even want to be awake, but I was going to try to speak to him. Even if it came out inaudible or unable to understand, he would probably get the hint that I couldn't talk. "I'm sorry you found me." My voice was quiet and raspy, and I knew that he probably didn't understand what I said.

Mikey blinked at me in confusion, but shook his head. "Why? The doctors said that you would probably have died if I didn't find you when I did, You were dehydrated from drinking, and you had broken bones, and there was blood everywhere, and it was sick dude, but not the good kind of sick." That made me smile again, It wasn't a smile with teeth, but rather one where only the corner of my lips were curled. I looked at him with sad eyes, and he reciprocated the look. The only difference was that he looked like he had a reason to be upset. I was just upset because I was actually here. I was stuck at the hospital when I could be at home, or at work.

"Are you okay?" My voice was still quiet, still hard to understand. I only asked because he looked like he was about to break down and cry. I was used to seeing Mikey emotional, and he was used to seeing me in the same way. We both knew how to deal with the other when we were upset, I just hoped that I wouldn't have to comfort him right then.

He didn't shake his head, or nod, but I could tell that he wasn't alright. He let his head hang downward so he was looking at his lap. His shoulders shook softly and I would have grabbed him and brought him into a hug if I wasn't still recovering from multiple broken bones. "I thought you were going to die." he said through sniffles, his shoulders still shaking. "I thought you were dead. I-I... I didn't know what to do - you were covered in blood and - and I couldn't...." Mikey stopped talking, he couldn't really talk at this point. His words becoming choppy and breathless as he worked himself up more and more. 

I stretched my free arm out to him, and rested it on his knee - the only part of him that I could actually reach. I wished that I could have seen how bad off I was when he found me. I wished I could have remembered how bad I felt, I wanted to know what he had to go through, what he saw and what made him think that I was dead. There must have been a lot of blood - seeing how I was most likely bleeding from other places I had no idea about. I was so sorry that he was the one that found me. I wanted to know why the guy beat me up, why I was the one he wanted to leave for dead. I didn't know what I did wrong, but I knew for sure that Mikey shouldn't have been the one to find me. I knew that he was going to be terrified for my life these next few weeks, I didn't want him to worry, I was recovering, I was fine.

Mikey looked up at me when he felt my hand on his knee. His eyes were glassy-like he was about to cry- behind his glasses, but still, no tears had fallen. He took in a deep, shaky breath, and then spoke as softly as he could."Someone came to see you yesterday." I furrowed my eyebrows together in confusion as he continued. "I think it was that Frank kid, the one that you like, but he didn't really say anything."

I brought my hand away from him and looked down, my eyes fixed on my arm that was in the sling. Why had Frank come to visit? It didn't make any sense, I had only known him for a day. The only reason that I could think of was because he thought something bad had happened - or he knew something bad had happened - when I didn't pick him up that night. "What's he look like?" I asked, raising my head to look back up at my brother.

Mikey brought his hand up to his eyes, slipping his fingers under his glasses, rubbing the tears away from the corners. He sniffed once before speaking. "Brown hair, really greasy too. Looked like he hadn't showered in like a week. He's pretty short. I don't know, man, he was wearing a black shirt that had moths holes all over it."

I hastily bit my lip, knowing that it was Frank. Who else was described like that? I wanted to know why he was there, what he was planning on saying to me if I wasn't comatose, but Mikey had said that he didn't say much, so I wasn't going to ask. I nodded, however, silently saying that the boy was in fact Frank. "So is he cute?" I asked, pushing my lips together to hold back a smile. I knew that my brother wasn't going to appreciate my comment, but it had to be said.

"I guess so. I'm not like you, though. I'm not gay, so I don't really have a say in that."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not gay either." 

He waved his hand, dismissing my statement. "Okay, fine, whatever. I'm not bi, so I don't really have a say in if he's cute or not.

"How are you not bi?" I asked a playful smirk curling onto my lips. "You dated Pete, didn't you?"

Mikey shook his head. "I did not date Pete." he glared at me and I knew that he had grown tired of my comments about him and the boy who was one year older. They had been friends the previous year, but once Pete graduated from high school, they hadn't really spoken since.

"Say what you want, but I know something happened." My throat was still dry, making my voice sound raw and filled with emotion. It was getting better, and I knew that if I drank a few more cups of water it would be healed back to normal.

"Nothing happened!" he exclaimed, standing up and taking a step away from the bed. "I don't want to get into this right now, Gee. You just woke up from a coma, so I don't know how you're already trying to pry into the relationships that I've had." he paused, staring at me, but then caught onto what he had said. "I meant didn't have. Didn't have! I didn't date him, I swear to God. I would never date him!" 

A laugh bubbled up in my chest, but I quickly bit it down. The movement of my chest caused my ribs to hurt, forcing me to immediately stop laughing, and instead look up at the ceiling in pain. I didn't verbally express my emotions, but I bit down hard on my lips, trying not to let out a string of curse words. When I had managed to get the pain under control, I moved my head back down to look at Mikey, my eyes flickering over to the door when it opened. My mom walked in first, and my dad followed closely behind.

"Gerard," she greeted me, going to the side of the bed that Mikey wasn't on. "How are you feeling? Are you alright?"

Mikey looked over at her, shaking his head as he sat back down onto the side of the bed."Does he look alright?"

Our mom glared at him, her expression telling me that this was what she had to deal with the three days I was out. "Stop it." she hissed under her breath. I knew that I probably wasn't supposed to hear it, but I could understand now why she was so uptight when he asked to stay home from school when I was in the hospital. Then again, she was most likely stressed, and my little brother's comments probably didn't help her any. She turned back to face me, her eyes filled with sorrow. "How are you feeling? Are you comfortable?"

I nodded softly. "Yeah, I'm fine." I sat up slowly, trying to get in a better position, but the painful feeling in my rib cage came back, so I gave up and settled back down into the spot I was previously in. "My ribs hurt a lot. That's about it, though." I decided to not tell my family about my slight memory loss, It would be better if they didn't worry more than they already were.

"I'm not surprised." My dad spoke up, standing behind Mikey with a hand on his shoulder. Moral support, I guess, but it seemed like the hand on his shoulder was making Mikey want to cry even more. "Three broken ribs, a broken nose, and a broken arm - which they said you didn't need a cast for, by the way. Just take it easy with that arm in the sling and they said you would be fine."

I took a moment to look at my family, to look at the people who cared enough about me to take off from their work, from their schooling, in order to be with me. I appreciated them, yes, but not nearly as much as I knew I should. When I was younger, I took them all for granted. I didn't realize that I wouldn't be at home forever, that I would have to be out on my own. I used to push my parents away whenever they tried to comfort me, thinking that I was grown, when I was barely halfway through my teenage years. At the time, I talked to Mikey a lot, and I had a decent relationship with my parents, but my connection to all three of them wasn't nearly as strong as it should have been. I didn't know that I was going to depend on my brother to keep me sane, or that my parents would have to help me pay my bills, but it happened, and I didn't know what to do with myself. Laying there in that hospital bed made me realize that everything was wrong. I realized that I shouldn't have to depend on all these people. They had their own lives, their own things to do, and the last thing that they needed to worry about was their anxious, potential alcoholic son and brother.

I looked at my mom, who I could tell was trying desperately to keep her hands off of me. "We were so worried for you." she said, stretching out a hand so her palm cupped my face. It was a gesture I normally would have squirmed away from, but there wasn't really a way for me to get away from the touch, so I let it slide. "I thought I was going to lose you, I thought I was going to lose my baby boy."

"Mom." I whispered, turning my head away from her.

"What?" her hand retracted from me. "We didn't even get a call from your brother, you know." She was referring to Mikey. How he had called an ambulance and not our own parents, I had no idea. He might have been more level headed than we all thought. Our parents couldn't have done anything except call and ambulance, anyway. "We had gotten a call from the hospital, and we thought something had happened to Mikey, since he headed off to your apartment thirty minutes before we got the call. When I heard that something happened to you, though? Gerard, we thought you were dead."

Mikey turned his head to look at her, "You thought he was dead before you even saw him?" His words really made me want to know how bad off I had been.

She nodded softly, looking at her youngest son with sad eyes. "He's been through so much - but we've never gotten a call from a hospital." she looked back to me. "Between your drinking and your anxiety, and everything else that you've gone through in the past," she was talking about my depression, as well as my suicidal tendencies. Luckily she didn't know anything about my relationship with Billie other than we went out for a couple years. I couldn't even begin to imagine what she would think about me if she knew I continued to date someone who didn't take pride in dating me. I knew that there was something else he did. There was something else that happened to me that I couldn't remember, I hated not knowing what it was, because I knew it was awful, I just couldn't remember. "we didn't have anything left to think, We thought you did something that we couldn't fix."

"You thought I killed myself?" I couldn't imagine all that I put my parents through to make them believe that. Sure, I had been suicidal in the past - hell, I still was suicidal from time to time - but I never thought that I was so bad off that my parents would believe I could do it at any moment.

My dad took his hand off of Mikey's shoulder and spoke up. "Gerard, you shouldn't get worked up over that. We had full reason to worry about you."

"But you automatically thought I killed myself." My eyes flicked from my dad to my mom, both of their faces still drowned with worry. "You could have thought anything and that's the first thing you think I did?"

My mom shook her head. "No, baby, no." her voice was soft, almost as if she was trying to comfort me, like she was trying to keep me from getting stuck on the topic. "I don't want to talk about this right now. Why don't we wait until you're discharged from the hospital? You probably won't be as irritable then."

"Irritable?" I wanted my parents out of the room, I loved them, I needed them, but I couldn't stand them, at the time. I wanted my brother to stay so I had at least someone to comfort me, but I didn't know how to say that. I didn't know how to say that I wanted my brother to stay, but I wanted my parents out. They were so upset about me, upset that I had gotten into a fight of some sorts, upset that they would have to help me pay the hospital bills, upset that I wasn't dead. "Just... Just give me a minute alone, alright? I-I want to be - I want just a minute."

My mom reached forward to touch my face again and nodded, stepping away from the bed to turn towards the door. When she opened it, my dad quickly followed. Mikey stood there, however, staring at me for a couple seconds, taking the sight of me in. I wanted him to stay. I didn't want to be alone. I wanted to reach out and grab onto his arm, I wanted to tell him to stay next to me so I didn't get my mind wrapped up on the pain in my side - the pain of my face and head and arm. I wanted him to talk to me and distract me.

I wanted to see Frank.

I didn't know why I did. I hadn't even known the boy for that long, I just wanted to see him. Knowing that he had visited me while I was in a coma wasn't making it any better, because now I wanted to know what he was going to say to me if I had been awake. I wanted to know how he found out about me - or if his family had anything to do with what had happened to me. I wanted to know who else knew that I had been in the hospital for the past three days. I wanted to know if Cass knew, if she even cared. I wanted to know who all knew what had happened to me, who all had came to visit, and if anyone knew why I was the person to have a near-death experience.

The door to the hospital room was open slightly, unclosed from when my dad walked out, leaving it as an invite for Mikey to follow. My brother gave me a small smile but didn't say anything as he turned toward the door. He stopped at the foot of the bed, however, staring at the person who had walked in before he could get out. Mikey turned around to face me, his expression confused and worried. I looked over to who was walking toward me, expecting a nurse or doctor, but that's now who I saw.

It was Billie Joe.

He looked like he was in a rush, like he had ran ten blocks in order to reach my room in the hospital. I wanted to know why he was so determined to see me. After all, we hadn't been anything exclusive for two years, and even the kiss we shared a few days prior didn't give him leeway to feel the need to be next to me in the hospital. I didn't even really want him there, but he was a friend, he was my boss, and even though he was my exboyfriend, that didn't mean I had the right to be a dick to him.

Mikey moved his head to look at Billie, who was now standing at the foot of the bed opposite of my brother, and then back to me, "Do you want me to stay with you while he's here?"

Billie looked at him with displeasure, almost as if he was offended by his comment, I had a feeling that Mikey knew what I couldn't remember. I had a feeling that he knew what had happened between Billie Joe and me, that my brother knew the big event that occurred that I couldn't remember. I wanted to ask him what it was, I wanted to ask either of them what it was, but it couldn't have been that bad, could it?

I shook my head in response to Mikey. "No, I'll be fine." I said and he stared at Billie, giving him an icy look, before walking toward the door and out into the hallways.

I couldn't remember what kind of history the two had between them, or if it involved me. It probably did involve me, seeing how Mikey continuously declared that he was straight, and he wouldn't pass off a massive hint like that to me that he wasn't. That wasn't how he was. We both had secrets from one another, but not things like that. We never hid anything like that.

Billie walked up from the foot of the bed up to my right side. He sat down on the edge of the bed, since there was more than enough room with my arm being locked up in the sling. It didn't feel right to have him so close to me. It was a gut feeling, or perhaps left over emotions from when he kissed me, but I wasn't sure if I liked it. My family had sat next to me on the bed, but that was different. They were my family, he wasn't. He was... he was my exboyfriend who I had a past with that I couldn't fully remember. He treated me like I wasn't good enough for him, and did something to me that was no longer apparent in my memories. The nurse said that it would blow over, that the amnesia would go away, but I wasn't sure if I was going to want to remember what he had done to me.

"Are you alright? Cass told me what happened to you." His eyes were locked on mine, unwavering for even a second. It was enticing, his eyes were, and I had forgotten how much he could win me over with a single glance. That was how he got me to agree with most of what went on when we were dating. He would give me the most apologetic look, something that said he was sorry for everything but that he had to be right about the topic at hand. I was never able to say that he was wrong. I wasn't afraid of him, I just didn't want to lose our relationship. I didn't want to lose the first person who had ever said they loved me.

My mouth parted slightly as I looked at him, his green eyes even brighter under the fluorescent lightening than they would be anywhere else. "I-I'm okay." I said, stumbling over my words, and raising my shoulders to shrug slightly. "How did Cass know about me?"

I wouldn't have been surprised if Mikey had called her. My brother knew that I was still friends with her, so it would have made sense for him to call her and tell her that I was in the hospital.

Billie hesitated to speak, thinking over his words carefully before saying them. "Frank actually told her, that new kid at Super Comics."

"Frank? How did...." I realized that the kid had visited me while I was comatose, and if he told Cass that I was in the hospital, than he would have had to find out from someone that I was there. It made me believe that his family really did have something to do with my poor condition, and it was a strong assumption that I was sticking to unless I was proved wrong. "It doesn't matter," I brushed my own question off quickly, "Why are you here?"

"Can I not see you after you've been dead for three days?"

"I haven't been dead." I muttered, wishing that he wasn't there, or that I actually was dead.

Even if he didn't try to do it, he made me feel lesser. I knew that he didn't mean anything by the comment, but it made me feel ungrateful. He made me feel like I should have been happy that he was there, and maybe I should have been, but I wasn't. He made it seem like there was nothing I could say that was right, that if I even looked at him in the wrong way it would set him off. I hated feeling that way around people, and it seemed like he was the only one I felt that way around.

Billie leaned back on the bed, edging himself a couple inches away from me. "Do you not want me to be here?" his voice was careful. He didn't want to set me off, and I knew he didn't, because he had taken on the same tone from when we were dating, His voice was always smooth and soft, like he thought I was fragile. It was funny, really, how he didn't want me to start yelling, but if he was mad he had full right to yell, and I couldn't say anything about it.

As for him being at the hospital, for him being next to me? I didn't know what to say. I was thankful that he wanted to check up on me, especially after he heard that I was in bad condition, but I didn't know if I wanted him or not. Past emotions from when we were dating were still lodged in my brain, only the biggest memory being forgotten temporarily. With me not exactly knowing what he had done to me, I was hesitant on letting him stay this close to me. I wished that I had said yes to Mikey when he asked if I wanted him to stay. A part of me knew that I had told my brother what had happened between Billie and me. A part of me knew that I shouldn't have been alone with my ex - but I was, and I didn't know how to deal with the situation at hand on my own.

I shrugged, scrunching up my face slightly to show my uncertainty. "I don't know." I murmured, tilting my head up to look him in the eyes. "It's just weird, I guess."

"Look, if you don't want me here, that's all you have to say, I'll -"

"No," I stated, shaking my head. "I don't want you to leave, I just... I just want things to be normal between us.

"I can be normal." Billie said, inching closer to me on the bed.

There was a feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it was all I could focus on. Whether it be my instincts telling me that this guy wasn't good news, or my emotions taking their own course and making me have feelings for him again, I didn't like it. It was a heavy feeling, a knot that twisted my stomach so tightly that I got butterflies. I hated being confused. I hated not knowing what emotion I was feeling. I didn't know if I was afraid or in love, and that was what confused me the most. I looked down to my arm, the pitiful damaged one in the sling, and when I looked up, my eyes were locked with his. The feeling in my stomach grew larger, and I immediately knew that I wasn't afraid of him, I was in love again. I had fallen in love again, with the man that had emotionally beaten me down for two years.

His eyes were bright, a shimmering green that I had forgotten I loved. They were captivating; round and wide. If I wasn't forced to lay in the position I was (seeing how if I moved, then my ribs would feel like they were breaking apart), then I would have leaned forward and kissed him. Perhaps it was a good thing that I couldn't exactly move, because I vaguely knew that if I had kissed him then it would have gone south. I would have hated myself for doing it all over again, for giving myself the opportunity to be pushed around one more time. His love was a gateway to everything horrible, but it was that horrible love that I felt so desperate to have.

I moved my right leg closer to his hand, his fingertips brushing my thigh through the blanket. It was what I had intended to do with my nurse, Charlie, but decided against it. A shiver ran through my body, but I concealed the action, trying to not show how much the touch effected me. Billie noticed the movement of my leg, his eyes flickering down to look at where our bodies were slightly touching. I knew that he realized I didn't do it on accident. I hadn't moved any other part of my body - only my leg. I wanted to be close to him, to touch him, even though I knew it wasn't going to be healthy for me. Billie looked at me, I bit my lip, a habit that I had taken up in my early teenage years, and a habit I couldn't seem to break. I released my lower lip and opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

I had previously said that I wanted things to be normal between us, he had said that he could be normal. Maybe that was our normal. Maybe we couldn't be anything more than a relationship that fell apart only to come back together for a couple of nights. This had to be what he wanted. He did kiss me a few days ago, before I was beaten up, before all of this went south, so I still had to mean something to him. It wasn't like I was inferior in his eyes, right? He couldn't still have the mindset. We had both grown as people, It had been two years since we broke up. I learned things that I didn't know when I was twenty. I learned things about myself and the surrounding world, and I had to be strong enough to handle a relationship with him again. I had to be, It was what I wanted, so I had to be.

Billie moved his hand so it was pressed against against my mid-thigh, and when I didn't shy away from him, he took it as an invite to advance. He leaned forward, his body coming closer as his head bent slightly to press his lips against mine. I let my eyes close as I brought my head forward, pressing into the kiss. The touch was soft at first, innocent and sweet, and it reminded me that he wasn't all bad.

Billie Joe was a nice guy, he was just misunderstood. He did things that most people couldn't forgive, did things that I couldn't forgive but also couldn't remember at the time, but overall he was compassionate and caring. I had told myself that I could do this. I could handle being with him again. I didn't know that I was going to remember what he did to me all those years ago. I didn't know that I was going to regret lying here in the hospital bed, letting him move his hand across my thigh. I didn't know that anything was going to go wrong. All I knew at the time was that I loved him again, and I wanted as much of him as I could possibly get.

I opened my mouth, his tongue meeting mine as we both fought for more of each other. I would have pulled him closer to me, pulled him more onto the bed, except the sling restricted me from really moving my right arm, and my left arm was being occupied by an IV. So, I waited for him to make a move. I missed having him so close. I never realized how unsatisfied I had been those two years without him. Sure, I had pushed him away a few days prior when he kissed me, but it was different then. I actually remembered what he had done to me when that happened. I remembered more than him ignoring me, more than him treating me like I wasn't a person in our relationship. When I couldn't remember the reason why I broke up with him, I had to give thanks to the temporary amnesia. I didn't want to remember what he did to me. If I could continue to have moments like this, mindless kisses and touches, then I didn't want to remember what had happened. I wanted this; I wanted bliss.

I broke our kiss, pulling away to catch my breath. Our faces were close, our noses touching as we looked at one another with desperate, hungry eyes. I wished that I wasn't being kept captive by the hospital. I wanted to leave with my hands clinging to Billie's arm. He pressed his lips back against mine, almost as if he read my mind and saw its desperation. I was grateful for his actions, and let out a soft moan in response. The noise was enough to push him forward, and his hand slid up my thigh. Through the thin blanket covering me, I felt his hand brush between my legs, a feeling I had yet to get used to again. It sent a shiver through my body, and this time I didn't conceal it. I used the jolting action of my body as a reason to pull away from our kiss, my left hand going to his, pulling it away from my body with hesitation.

"Are you alright?" He asked me, pulling his hand away from mine as he sat up straight.

The second that he leaned away from me, I wanted to pull him back, but I resisted. Instead, I nodded to him. "Yeah, I'm fine." my eyes flickered towards the door, "I just don't want to do anything when my family could walk in."

A smirk appeared on his face and he nodded. "That's reasonable." Billie paused, looking down at me with a curious gaze. I could tell that he wanted something, but it wasn't apparent of what he wanted. He leaned a little closer to me, his chest coming forward, but not close enough for us to do anything. "It looks like you're just going to have to hurry up and get better then, That way we can get you out of here and into my apartment."

I felt my face go hot, and I knew immediately that I was blushing. I bent my head down towards my chest to try and hide the added color to my skin, my hair falling into my eyes. Billie reached out to tuck the falling strands behind my ear, his hand grazing my face as he did so. I looked up, his fingers still pressed against my cheek, and I knew that this was what I wanted. It didn't matter what had happened between us, or what he did to me that I couldn't remember. This was now, that was then, and I sure as hell wanted more of the present than of the past.


End file.
